


Troublemaker

by PorlPoint



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Basically retelling of Origins starring a female Surana, F/F, Gen, Mage (Dragon Age) Rights, Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Multi, focuses heavily on mage issues, longfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorlPoint/pseuds/PorlPoint
Summary: Regan Surana was a troublemaker, everyone in the Circle knew this. This story is about how Regan became the Hero of Ferelden and about the bonds that helped her get there.
Relationships: Alistair & Female Warden (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Sten & Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 5





	1. Origins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Regan is one of my most beloved OCs and I just had to write out her journey. I will admit this does rush through the origin and Ostagar because I'm impatient to get to the real plot.
> 
> Description of Regan since it didn't fit well in the flow of the chapter. She has pale skin, white hair (in the shoulder-length style with small braids), dark blue eyes, and wears dark purple eyeshadow and lipstick. How did she get these items in the Ciricle, you ask? I don't know either, but when I played DA:O I wanted a goth magic girl.

Regan didn’t want to be making this choice, but here she was. She was selling out her own classmate, telling Irving about Jowan’s half-baked “plan”. Sure, some plan it was.

Why did he have to ask me for help?  
Regan wished she never knew about the plan so she could just let it fail on its own, but knowing Jowan he would probably somehow incriminate her when he got caught.

Regan had come too far for Maker-damned Jowan to ruin this for her now. She had come too far, her Harrowing was passed and she was one step closer to the only freedom she would ever get in her miserable life. Full-fledged mages could sometimes leave the circle. Maker, she was grasping at straws but that sometimes was the only light her future held. Mouthing off at templars and being a bitch to her least favorite teachers couldn’t be all her life ever was. She did not get this far without actually breaking out of the circle, without actually resorting to blood magic and killing the whole lot of them, without becoming one more mage found dead at the tower’s base, for freedom to be this close when she lost it all.

Regan was a troublemaker, everyone knew it. If she was caught even tangential to a blood mage...it was all over. She would be killed before she got to feel the wind on her face again.

So she tattled on Jowan to save her life. More than anything, she was furious at him for trying to drag her into his mess.

If there was any silver lining to the situation, it was Irving’s plan to incriminate Lily along with Jowan. At least then the Chantry would take a hit.

~~~~~~

The plan went sideways. It went real fucking sideways. There she was, Irving's star pupil, being threatened with death by the Knight Commander. And Jowan! Turns out he was a blood mage after all, the prick. Regan knew he always managed to find the worst solution to any given situation, but come on. Even Regan Surana, the Circle’s second biggest trouble maker, knew to stay away from blood magic.

As Regan listened to Irving and Greagoir argue, she clutched the staff she had found in the storage room in her hands. She had told Iriving she took nothing. One final rebellion before her death, she supposed.

It was then that Duncan stepped in. He wanted to make her a Gray Warden. Greagoir protested, but then he invoked the Rite of Conscription.

Finally, Regan thought, giddy with relief, a “rite” that means something good for once.

Regan hardly had any time to actually think about what was happening to her, all she had time to do was grab her small pile of personal belongings and say goodbye to whoever she ran into on the way as she dashed through the halls.

I’m leaving the Circle! Who cared that the Gray Wardens had to fight darkspawn, they had mages who didn’t live in the Circle.

Rushing through the hallways, clutching only a few spare sets of robes and her container of makeup, she saw a familiar awkward figure standing in the hall.

“Hi Cullen!” Regan called as she raced past. “Bye Cullen!”

Cullen, as usual, did not respond. Regan didn’t even stay long enough to hear his stutters. He was one of the easy templars to mess with, so Regan didn’t much mind him.

Regan definitely caught some eyes as she darted down another hallway full of open doors, but they all knew her antics. What they didn’t know is that they would never see her again.

“Bye everyone!” Regan yelled in glee, “I’m becoming a Gray Warden!”

She didn’t stay long enough to hear anyone’s bewilderment.

When she got back to where Duncan was waiting, Irving and Greagoir had stopped fighting and were now sharing an icy silence. Irving, however, did step aside to say his goodbye.

“Farewell, child,” he told her. “I...regret the way this turned out, but I am glad that you seem happy. This tower will be...different, without you around.”

Different meant quieter, probably. “Lame” was the correct answer of course.

“Goodbye Irving,” Regan said, almost out of breath with excitement. “I would say ‘see you again,’ but I’m never coming back.”

“I never thought you would,” Irving replied, shaking his head but smiling.

And with that, and a dramatic wave to a fuming Greagoir, Regan was off.

The creaking of the huge front doors was the best sound Regan had heard in years. The light hit her face and she could swear that the courtyard outside was the Golden City itself. It was almost unreal, setting one foot outside. The grass under her shoe felt strange, the air smelled different. It took Regan a few moments, and a lot of steps, to realize that there were tears rolling down her face.

Duncan was looking at her, concerned, so Regan wiped her eyes in a way she hoped didn’t smear her dark makeup too much.

“I’m alright,” she told the older Gray Warden. After a few moments more of walking in silence, Regan spoke again.

“So what’s it like, being a Gray Warden?”

“It is a difficult life,” Duncan told her plainly. “But we serve a necessary role.”

“I’m okay with a difficult life,” Regan responded, remembering her days in Denerim. Realizing she had become uncharacteristically serious, she continued “I mean Gray Wardens get to go outside, right? We don’t fight darkspawn in dusty libraries?”

That got a small chuckle out of Duncan. “No, no we do not. Your desires seem simple indeed, if the outdoors is all it will take you to face death on the battlefield.”

“Like I said,” Regan responded, “as long as that battlefield is outside. Besides, you just saved me from dying. Although to be honest, I would have joined you anyway.”

“Even leaving a comfortable life, one where you are not fighting?”

“Every day in the Circle is a fight,” Regan replied, “just not against an enemy you can strike down. It’s not like my odds were great in the Circle. Mages die all the time there. Or worse.”

Don’t think about the tranquil, Regan.

“Being a Gray Warden is a death sentence,” Duncan warned. “Do not get your hopes up too much.”

Regan considered this, then shrugged. “Is that your usual recruitment speech? It’s a wonder there are any Gray Wardens.”

Duncan didn’t respond.

~~~~~~~

The travel time was mostly spent marveling at the outside world, but when Regan could finally turn her attention away from how amazing everything was, she pestered Duncan with questions about the Grey Wardens. He answered a few of them, but mostly said she couldn’t know things until after the Joining, whatever that was.

“Maker,” Regan exclaimed, “there are so many weird recruitment rituals I’ve had to do lately. I just passed my Harrowing right as you got to the Circle, you know. I would have been an apprentice otherwise… Can you recruit mages who haven’t passed their Harrowing?”

“We can invoke the Rite any time we would like,” Duncan replied.

“It’s the same with Templars,” Regan replied. “Different Rite, but still. They do what they want.”

Duncan regarded Regan for a moment. “You seem to carry quite a bit of...resentment, for someone of your age.”

“What’s not to resent?” Regan exclaimed, waving her arms. “What, do you think I’m not Grey Warden material anymore?”

Although Regan now crossed her arms in defiance, she was slightly nervous that he would suddenly turn around and take her back.

“No, child, your resentment does not dissuade me. Killing you would have been a waste of a perfectly good mage. But there is one thing I now don’t understand.”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you turn on your fellow mage? From what I know of you, it would make more sense if I found you helping that blood mage instead of tricking him.”

Now Regan was mad. “You don’t get to judge me,” she said, pointing a finger. “You didn’t forget what the grass felt like under your feet, or need to lean out a window to remember what fresh air smelled like. If Jowan somehow let it slip I knew about his plan and I hadn’t told Irving, I’d be killed. Passing my Harrowing meant I’d get to leave someday, even for a day. I couldn’t die when I was so close.”

“I do not intend to judge your actions, merely understand them.”

Regan relaxed her posture slightly, ready to drop her defences just a bit.  
“Good,” was all she said in response.

So far, for some reason, the journey had been on foot. Regan was finding it a little hard to keep up, and her feet hurt. Didn’t help that the stupid shoes the Circle gave her were not meant this much walking.

On the third day of travel, when they reached the Inn they were staying at for the night Regan had to ask.  
“So when do we get there?”  
“We should be arriving tomorrow afternoon, if we get an early start.”

“Nice. Uh, goodnight then.” Regan shut the door to her room, and basked in the blissful silence of having her own room. She was in the process of putting on her nightclothes when she came to a realization. She could just sleep in her underwear, no one was here with her! Regan then rolled up in the covers like a cocoon, smiling to herself.

She was really outside the Circle, and she was never going back.


	2. Another Maker-Damned Templar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan meets her fellow recruits! It doesn't go well! 
> 
> Trigger warning for this chapter - there is mention of sexual assault but no detailed descriptions. Regan's background does not involve any sexual assault, but she is very aware because of her upbringing in the Circle and it colors the way she sees some interactions.

The Grey Warden camp was busy, people coming and going in every direction. Some of them wore Warden uniforms, but there were others too. 

“What kind of robes do I have to wear, anyway,” Regan pondered as Duncan led her in.

“Our mages don’t wear robes, they wear padded tunics. Much more practical for fighting darkspawn.”

Regan’s eyes widened as she looked over at Duncan. “I don’t have to wear robes anymore? Seriously? Okay, when do I get a uniform. I want pants, now.”

“After the joining,” Duncan told her, as he often did.

Regan groaned, but didn’t press the issue. Soon enough, she would get her pants. She knew plenty of mages back in Kinloch Hold who had no problem with the glorified skirts, some even saying it helped them with their hookups, but they felt stifling to Regan. Without pants you had to sit properly. She had many memories of herself when she first arrived needing to constantly remind herself she couldn’t perch like a cat anymore.  
There were a lot of things she had to remind herself she couldn’t do anymore, then.

Regan was instructed to find another Grey Warden, “Alistair.” Given literally no description, she wandered the camp. At some point she had to do a double take because she could have sworn she saw Enchanter Wynne. Then she did a triple take. It was Enchanter Wynne.  
Regan got out of there fast.

Why is she here?! Regan wondered. What the fuck? She was trying to get away from the Circle, and one of the most infuriatingly “content” mages was here! Regan would just have to avoid Wynne.

She was so lost in thought that she almost ran right into two people arguing. Just before she walked right between them, she stopped herself. 

One of them was a mage, the other a man around her age in Gray Warden armor. 

“That’s what I love about the Blight, it brings people together!” The man chuckled to himself as the mage left in a huff. 

“Ha,” said Regan, not sure what she was supposed to say to that. “Um, what was that about?”

“Oh,” he said. “The mages don’t like it when I get sent to deliver messages. Think it’s a bit of an insult, since I used to be a Templar.”

Regan took a step back, blood rushing past her ears. “I need to go,” she announced. Nope, no way was she dealing with a Templar right now.

“Wha-” the man said, looking confused before a look of understanding passed his face. “Robes!” he exclaimed, “You’re wearing - you’re a mage too. Ah. Um…” The man then looked a bit sheepish.

“Good job genius, I bet you were the best at catching apostates.”

To his credit, the man did look embarrassed.

“Anyway,” said Regan, eager to leave, “I need to go find Grey Warden Alistair and-”

“That’s me!” the man interrupted. Motherfucker.  
Great, just great. Three days out of the Circle for good and Regan had run into Enchanter Wynne and a fucking Templar.

“Oh,” Regan said, not hiding her disappointment. “Well. I’m Regan, a new recruit. Duncan sent me to find you.”

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Regan was off to find some darkspawn blood with a few other recruits and...the Templar. He was almost infuriatingly cheerful, but Regan knew better. Don’t get lulled into a false sense of security, this man wanted her locked away and no amount of dorky smiles would change that.  
The other two recruits weren’t bad, exactly, but she could sense that they found her a curiosity. Both of them had clearly never met a mage before and had met only a few elves, all of them servants. They weren’t demeaning Regan exactly, but she knew she was the odd one out.

The excursion was uneventful, until their first darkspawn encounter. It was pretty gross, but all things considered, Regan thought she handled the fight well. Clearly she handled it better than the other two recruits, who were currently sitting off to the side, one of them staring blankly into space. Alistair was kneeling next to him, giving the man a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

Regan wandered over to the body and poked it with the end of her staff. She supposed they would be scarier in groups, or in the deep roads. But honestly, fighting that thing had been no worse than her Harrowing. As Regan stared at the grotesque monster on the ground, she was startled by a hand on her own shoulder.  
Immediately she spun around and shoved whoever had touched her, half ready to freeze their ass to the fade and back, but it was just Alistair.  
“What do you want,” she sneered, still feeling the touch of his hand. That was always how it started with Templars. “Don’t think you get to touch me like that because I’m a mage. I don’t care if you outrank me!”  
Now the other two recruits were staring at her as well, and Alistair caught her eye with an odd look. Remorse?

“Of course,” he said, looking away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I’m sorry. I just, ah, wanted to make sure you were okay. Not everyone is after their first encounter with the Darkspawn.

“I’m fine,” Regan told him. “It’s not so different from demons.”

“Demons?” one of the recruits, Jory, asked, askance.

“I’m a mage,” Regan shrugged. “Every mage has to fight a demon at some point.”

Regan knew she was underplaying the feeling of demon encounters, and of combat with demons, but she wasn’t about to show weakness in front of any of these people. As far as they were concerned, demons were a walk in the park for her.  
Alistair didn’t seem quite on board with her explanation, and Regan thought she might know why. Being a Templar, he had probably been present for a fair share of failed Harrowings.  
She didn’t want his sympathy, even if he knew how much Regan had truly been up against.

As they continued walking, Regan got the sense that she now intimidated the other recruits a bit. Good, she thought. Regan may have been at the Circle for 12 years now, but she remembered her lessons about the outside world from Denerim. Watch out for Shem. Regan may be free now, but she was starting out as the lowest ranking member of an organization mostly full of humans and with only a few mages. She was still the outsider here, still the most expendable.  
Back in the Circle, being an elf was less of an issue than in the outside world. Still an issue, mind you, but in the Circle they all lived together. That still hadn’t helped when the other young apprentices pinched her ears and laughed, or made fun of her elven surname. And even in the Circle, there were subtle ways life could be worse for an elf. Believed less, trusted less. She knew some Templars suspected elves as blood mages more than humans because of some distrust of the Dalish.

And with that as her background, she still knew the outside world was worse. That didn’t scare her though, nothing would scare her away from freedom. So Regan trudged through the forest in her ill-fitting shoes standing tall despite her stature, despite everything. She was going to make the Grey Wardens her chance at freedom, whatever it took.

~~~~~~~~

On the way back to camp Regan walked close to the mysterious mage they met in the woods. Morrigan seemed, at first glance, like everything Regan wanted to be. Wild, free, confident, with the added bonus of being really hot.  
Of course Alistair was wary of her, but Regan didn’t think much of his opinion. She hadn’t made any move to harm them and they were in her home. 

Regan was now speaking to Morrigan in hushed tones away from the others.  
“So your mother really killed the Templars that came here to catch you?”

“Indeed. You sound quite excited by the prospect,” Morrigan observed with a sly and curious look. Maker, she was beautiful. And cool. And badass. And so hot it was honestly intimidating. 

“Well,” Regan replied, glancing at Alistair out of the corner of her eye, “there’s no love lost between me and the Templars.”

“I had thought you Circle mages were all meek and subservient.”

“It’s what they want us to be,” Regan replied. “Some figure it’s in their best interest to submit. I’d rather die than pretend to be happy there.”

“And yet you stayed for years.”

Regan frowned. “It’s not like I could get out. They can track me, I’d just get dragged back.”

“If all mages in your tower fought back at once, surely the Templars would not stand a chance.”

“Uh, I guess. But there’s no way everyone would agree to that.”

“And that,” Morrigan said, “is why you are still chained. You choose complacency.”

Something about that didn’t seem right, but Regan wasn’t in the mood to argue with Morrigan. Their conversation tapered off after that, Regan’s spirits lowered. 

It’s not like she can understand. She had her mother to protect her, and... Thinking this, Regan’s stomach dropped and she suddenly didn’t want to continue her train of thought. Something bitter was winding its way around Regan’s heart, but she couldn’t identify it.  
Jealousy, perhaps? Morrigan did have Regan’s ideal life, free in the woods with no one to hold her back. But Regan knew she would be a little jealous of that, so why did it feel so terrible?

The group arrived back at the camp and said farewell to Morrigan, and Regan managed to hide whatever was brewing inside her all the way back. She was mad at Morrigan, maybe. 

As the group went to find Duncan, Alistair spoke.  
“So, about that Morrigan, eh?”

“What about her?” asked Regan defensively. 

“She’s terrifying,” Daveth said. Jory nodded in agreement. 

Regan replied distantly, “It doesn’t really matter, she gave us the treaties anyway.”

After giving the darkspawn blood to Duncan, while waiting for the ritual to be prepared, Regan sat on a rock away from the others. She mulled over what about the conversation with Morrigan had made her uneasy. There was the jealousy, sure, but also...anger. How could Morrigan just say that all her fellow mages in the tower were weak? Regan knew that wasn’t true, and Morrigan didn’t understand that. Morrigan had never lived in that tower, when Morrigan first discovered her magic she had a mage as a mother, and she…

Ah, Regan realized. There it was. Morrigan’s mother had protected her, and Regan was sick with envy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regan and Alistair may have gotten off on the wrong foot...


	3. Gray Warden Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan undergoes the Joining, and then the battle at Ostagar begins.

Night had fallen as the group of nervous recruits waited for the Joining to start. Regan was getting a little nervous too, just waiting around. Would the Joining be some kind of test? What if she didn’t pass, would they send her back?  
I should start making plans for that possibility. I’m already far from the circle, could I stay an   
apostate if I ran now? Maybe I could beg for asylum with Morrigan and Flemeth?  
This train of thought was cut off by Alistair ushering them into a secluded area. Then the joining was explained to them. Fuck.

Okay, okay, Regan thought to herself as she stared at the goblet of darkspawn blood. This isn’t anything like a harrowing...A harrowing was somewhat decided by skill. This appeared to be...chance. No. No, I will survive this. 

And what would she really have without the Gray Wardens? There wouldn’t actually be any escaping. It was either drink from that goblet or go back to the Circle.

I’d rather die, Regan thought, just as Daveth’s body hit the floor, jarring her out of her own head.  
Regan watched with wide eyes as he convulsed, the gurgled, and then...died. Regan was too shocked to make any noise, her mind scrambling to catch up to what was happening.

“No!” Jory was saying, “I didn’t sign up for this!” And then Duncan was advancing on him with a sword. Before Regan could even scream, Ducan had stabbed Jory through. 

As Jory died, Regan realized numbly that she was the last recruit. It was her turn, and she was standing there with a murderer and a Templar. There was a pause, one where the two men looked over to her. Regan didn’t know what to say, she just stared back at Duncan, the man who had saved her and would definitely kill her if she refused to drink. 

“W-well then,” Regan said, smiling a crooked smile. “My turn, then.” Alistair and Duncan both seemed to relax a bit. Duncan handed her the goblet, and Regan drank with shaking hands. It tasted disgusting, but she swallowed. Then her vision started to go blurry, and something was crawling under her skin. Regan fought hard to stand up, but lost in the end.

The next thing Regan knew she was staring up at the inside of a tent. For a moment she thought she had just woken up, but then remembered what had happened last night.   
I guess this is like the joining then. The only thing missing is someone hovering over-

“You’re awake!” came a voice that was entirely too loud and much too close. Regan whipped her head to the side and saw Alistair was sitting next to her cot. Who knew how long he had been staring at her...helpless. Regan took stock of herself. She was still dressed, thank the Maker, and nothing felt wrong. Sitting up, she curled her shoulders defensively and glared at Alistair. 

“Does it get you off watching elves sleep or something?” Regan snapped.

“Wha- no!” Alistair blushed furiously. “I wasn’t watching you sleep. I was just here waiting for you to wake up and to make sure you were okay. I didn’t watch you.”

“Good, unless you want to lose your eyes.” Regan retorted, getting to her feet. “So, is that it then? I passed the joining? Or does the next part involve jumping off a cliff?”

“That’s it,” Alistair replied, decidedly less enthusiastic than usual. “Look,” he said, “I’m sorry you had to see what happened...happen.”

“Nothing really happened to Jory except Duncan,” Regan scoffed.

“That’s one part of being a Warden I’m not so fond of,” said Alistair. “And the not warning you part. Us Gray Wardens have a lot of secrets, but it’s important they stay secret. We’re Thedas’s only defense against a Blight.”

“I don’t need the recruitment speech, I’m already in.” Regan exited the tent as Alistair followed. 

It was bright outside, people milling about. Regan wondered how many of them knew what happened to Daveth and Jory last night. 

“When do I get a uniform?” Regan asked, taking her mind away from the recently deceased recruits.

“Probably a few days?” Alistair replied. “They have to find something in your size, and I don’t think we have many of the mages’ uniforms lying around.”

Regan groaned. “Look man, all I want is some pants.”

“Right now we actually have to attend a strategy meeting, actually.”

“You said ‘actually’ twice.”

“...Now it’s starting to lose meaning,” Alistair mused. “Actually actually actual-” 

Regan kicked him lightly. 

“Ow!” Alistair exclaimed. “You didn’t have to kick me.”

“But it was kinda fun.”

“Is this banter? Are we bantering?” Alistair asked.

“No,” Regan replied. “I just wanted to kick a templar.”

“Ex-templar,” Alistair reminded her.

Regan was about to make some retort but they arrived at the tent the meeting was going to take place in. The tent was large, but crowded with about a dozen Gray Wardens, Teryn Loghain, and the King. Regan still couldn’t believe she met the king.  
Most of the strategy being discussed was going over her head, but Regan tried to pay attention. She had gotten a few strange looks when she entered, being an elf and wearing mage robes.

Regan was starting to zone out of listening when she heard Alistair’s name mentioned.

“...you and our new recruit will light the beacon atop the Tower of Ishal.”

“But ser-” Alistair started, sounding upset. 

“It is an important job,” Duncan told him and Regan both. “The light will signal Loghain’s forces to attack the Darkspawn.”

“I should be fighting the Darkspawn!” Alistair protested.

“And should any Darkspawn attack the tower, the task will be in good hands.”

Alistair stopped arguing, but still looked upset.

“Hey, lighten up,” Regan told him as the meeting ended. “I’m sure you’ll get many chances to fight Darkspawn. Plus, it’s not like this is your first big battle. Unless…”

Regan scrutinized Alistair, making him shrink away slightly. “Unless this is your first big battle! You’re almost as new as me!”

“I’ve been training for a long while,” Alistair replied defensively, “and I have fought Darkspawn many times. But yes, this is my first large scale operation. I had just...just hoped to help out more.”

“I don’t know, from where I’m standing we’re avoiding a ticket to the Maker’s side. Frontliners rarely make it back.”

“That’s not an attitude very becoming of a Grey Warden,” said Alistair, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m new here, what can I say,” Regan sighed. “Anyway I’m not happy about this either. I was hoping I would have less templar escorts when I left the Circle. The whole time I've been here Duncan’s had you glued to my side.”

“I’m not here as a templar,” Alister replied in frustration, “I’m here as a Grey Warden teaching a new recruit.”

“...As long as you don’t Smite me or whatever.”

“Regan,” Alistair sighed, “why in Andraste’s name would I do that? You’re my ally.”  
Regan didn’t respond, letting them fall into an awkward silence as they waited until the cries of battle. When the battle did start and the army mobilized, Regan and Alistair took off for the Tower of Ishal without a word to one another.

Regan made a beeline for the end of the bridge, dodging flaming rocks as she ran. She would not get taken out by a mineral on her first mission as a Grey Warden.

When they got to the tower, it seemed Alistair would get his wish to fight some darkspawn. Apparently the tower was now full of them.

“Any particular strategy?” Regan asked Alistair and the tower guard as she stared at the doors. 

“Kill Darkspawn, that’s the strategy,” was Alistair’s reply. Pretty good strategy, it turned out. Regan was quick on her feet in battle, and she could stay out of range of most assailants. Her biggest problem right now was avoiding hitting either the guard or Alistair. She had trained to fight alone, not as part of a group.

Regan quickly dispelled the ice she was forming, seeing Alistair run towards her field of vision. He cleaved a darkspawn in two with the force of his sword, slightly hunched over. There weren’t many left, but they had ascended two floors already and each of them were filled with Darkspawn. Regan could feel her many running low.

After the remaining Darkspawn were taken care of, the small group stood to compose themselves for a minute. The tower guard especially wasn’t looking so good, his face pale and his breath ragged. 

“You should stay behind,” Alistair told him. “Us Warden’s can handle the rest. Right?” he asked over his shoulder at Regan.

Regan gave him a tired thumbs-up. Truthfully, she wasn’t quite sure, but she knew the guard would be more hindrance than help in his current state.

“Don’t suppose...you have any lyrium potions on you?” Regan asked. 

“No, I stopped taking it when I left the Order.”

“Good for you,” Regan replied. “Bad for me. I’m almost out of mana. I’ll be able to manage a few more big spells but after that it’s only small attacks.”

Alistair nodded, then steeled himself. “Alright, let’s go.”

The next floor was finally the last, but they had no fewer problems as the first thing they saw when they reached the top was a massive creature. Before it saw them, Regan grabbed Alistair by the arm and dragged him back down a few stairs. 

“Any more brilliant Gray Warden strategy?” She asked, slightly frantic. “Also what in the Maker’s name is that thing?”

“An ogre,” Alistair replied. “And as for strategy… I’ll have to take the brunt of the fighting if you’re out of mana.

“A few more spells left,” Regan clarified.

“Okay...um…” Alistair looked to be deep in thought. 

“Are they smart?” Regan asked.

“Ogre’s? No, not especially. They attack whatever’s nearest, mostly. Or whatever hurt them the most.”

“Here’s the plan then,” Regan stated, not knowing where this burst of authority came from. “You run in to attack the Ogre, stay mostly out of it’s range but do get some hits in. Basically, distract it. While it fights you, I’ll cast the low power spells from this stairway. Together, maybe we can wear it out before it kills us.”

Regan was expecting some pushback to her somewhat crazy plan, especially as it put Alistair in much more danger than herself, but all he did was nod in affirmation. Regan’s plan it was, then.

For a while, the ogre did get distracted by Alistair. But eventually it caught on to the fact that Regan was doing more damage on the whole. The ogre charged at Regan by the stairs, and she quickly ran. The room wasn’t as big as a battlefield so even as Regan had her back up against the opposite wall, the ogre was still well within charging distance.

“Shit,” Regan muttered to herself as she readied her last offensive spell. It did more damage to the ogre than Regan thought it would, causing it to stumble. However that stumble only lasted for a moment before it was charging for Regan. She just managed to duck out of the way in time and run under its massive arm. 

“Hey!” Alistair yelled “Come get me you big bastard!”  
The ogre did look around at the shouting, but then looked right back at Regan. This time Regan was not fast enough and the ogre grabbed her around the middle and threw her to the ground.  
Regan gasped for breath, seeing the ogre’s fist about to slam down on her. Before it could strike however, a sword buried itself into the ogre’s shoulder and Regan could see that Alistair was hanging on, bracing his feet on the ogre’s back and grasping the sword tight. The ogre roared, trying to shake Alistair off. This gave Regan time to scramble to her feet and run away again. Fuck, all she could do was run away. Eventually the ogre opted to reach back and yank Alistair by his shirt over its shoulder, forcing him to let go of the sword. Alistair struggled in its grip, gasping as it began to crush him.

Regan didn’t have a smart way of resolving this, all she had were small bursts of magic. For a moment she was frozen to the spot, trapped by her own helplessness. What snapped her out of it was Alistair’s scream as the ogre squeezed tighter.

All Regan could think to do was rush the ogre, swinging her staff life a club and hitting the ogre in the face. The force of it broke its nose, Regan heard the crack. The ogre howled in pain and dropped Alistair. 

Alistair curled up on the floor, grasping his ribs, and the ogre looked at Regan.

Regan shot a spell, it didn’t seem to do anything. The ogre lumbered forward, Regan shot another spell. The ogre advanced still, and all Regan could do was shoot yet another spell.

That spell was apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back, because the ogre swayed for a moment, and then collapsed. Barely believing that just happened, Regan ran to Alistair’s side.

“Light....the beacon,” Alistair grunted out before Regan could ask if he was okay. Regan nodded and got up, summoning a small bit of fire in her hand, and set it on the fireplace that would flare up. 

Regan then ran to the window and looked up, seeing the beacon’s light. It was blinding, so she turned her attention to the battlefield. The armies looked like little toys from this vantage point, all smashing into each other. 

Alistair made another pained sound from inside the room, drawing Regan’s attention. She knelt back at his side. “Are you okay?”

“I think my rib’s broken.”

“Fuck. At least the fighting’s ov-”

There was a commotion from the floor below, then a banging on the door. Then growling, lots and lots of growling. 

“More darkspawn,” Regan breathed out. “You can’t fight, I’m out of mana...We’re fucked. We’re so fucked.”

The door crashed down, and darkspawn came rushing in. Regan gripped her staff tightly and stood over Alistair, charging up a spell with whatever mana she had managed to regain. 

The one spell only phased two of them, and Regan started firing off spells at whatever darkspawn got near. She could hear Alistair trying and failing to get up. 

Regan raised her staff for another blast, and then screamed as a burning pain erupted in her shoulder. She looked to the side to see an arrow. Fuck. Fuck, Fuck,

In her fright, she failed to notice another arrow, this one hitting her in the leg. Regan stumbled, then tripped into Alistair’s prone body. 

Laying on the ground, she could feel the blood gushing out of her wounds. As the darkspawn continued to advance, Regan’s world faded to black.


	4. Fear and Lothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang heads to Lothering

Regan awoke slowly, blinking a few times and enjoying the feeling of the bed under her. 

Wait.

Bed.

Regan sat up quickly, and also quickly realized two things. First, she had just been about to be killed by darkspawn. Second, she was in her underwear. 

Before Regan had time to think any further, the door creaked open. Regan instinctively grabbed the covers and wound them around herself.

Behind the door was Morrigan.

“So she is awake,” the woman noted. 

Was Regan in Morrigan’s bed? Was Regan really waking up in Morrigan’s bed in her underwear? Was this the Fade? 

“If you will kindly stop staring at me like an owl, I can explain your current circumstances.

Regan looked away, a bit sheepish. “Okay, why am I naked?”

“We had to wash the blood out of your robes.”

“We?”

“My mother and I.”

“...why am I not dead?”

“My mother saved you.”

“Alistair!” Regan suddenly realized, not even asking it as a question. 

“Also alive. He’s sulking about outside last I saw.”

“What...happened?”

“The battle is over, and ‘tis not a pleasant outcome I’m afraid.”

Regan waited for her to further explain. 

“Your reinforcements failed to show up and the army was crushed by the darkspawn. You and Alistair are the only survivors, I’m afraid.”

She didn’t look very sorry about it. 

This was a lot to take in. 

“Everyone’s dead?”

“Did I not say that?”

Regan didn’t respond to that and instead asked when her clothes would be ready. Morrigan told her they were drying, but that she could wear a spare set of clothes they had lying around. The clothes turned out to be mens, and Regan didn’t ask where they came from. 

_Hey_ , she thought to herself, _I finally got my pants...yay._

Regan reverently slipped her legs in, enjoying the feeling. They were much too loose, as was the shirt, but it was the first clothing that wasn’t a robe that Regan had worn in 12 years. If only she could celebrate under better circumstances. 

The next thing Regan did was go find Alistair. He was sitting on a rock outside of the house, staring bleakly into space and also wearing new clothes.

Regan walked over quietly on bare feet, not minding the grass. 

“Hey,” Regan said, startling Alistair. Regan sat down across from him on the grass, delicately tucking her legs to the side before realizing that she wasn’t wearing a skirt anymore. Regan smiled to herself and crossed her legs instead, planting her hands behind her and leaning back with a happy sigh. 

“What’s got you so chipper?” Alistair asked, devoid of any of his usual humor. “The whole army’s dead. We’re the last Gray Wardens in Ferelden.”

“...wait really?”

“Really,” Alistair replied. “They were all gathered there to face the darkspawn. Now they’re all dead.”

“Shit. Wait, what’s gonna happen with the Blight? Duncan thinks...thought...that this was the start of a 5th Blight.”

“I don’t know,” Alistair answered, still despondent. He shook his head. “Haven’t really thought that far. Still thinking about everyone else. Duncan.”

Regan saw the pain in his eyes. He may be a templar, but she wasn’t a monster. 

“You two were close.”

“...yes. He was like a father to me, when I joined.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alistair did not respond, only gave a small nod.

After a long silence, Morrigan’s mother appeared and explained how she saved them. Oh, and how she was a famous witch. Regan was still too...everything...at the moment to think the revelation was anything other than cool.

Flemeth also explained the urgency of the Blight, and how it was up to Alistair and Regan to stop it. Regan actually laughed at that.

“You can’t be serious. Us, stop an entire Blight? Don’t you have to kill an archdemon for that?”

“And their armies,” Alistair added. 

“You have the treaties,” Flemeth reminded them. “I retrieved them from the battlegrounds. Orzamar, the Dalish, Kinloch Hold. All of them in your dept. There are your armies.”

Alistair and I were both silent as we shared a glance at each other.

“Couldn’t we just go and find the other Wardens?” Regan asked. “There are Wardens in Orlais, right?”

“You will not make the journey in time,” Flemeth told them. “By the time you get back all of Ferelden will succumb to the Blight. You must use the treaties.”

A thought occurred to Regan. A bad thought, but a thought none the less.

“Why can’t we just...leave? I really don’t think the two of us can single handedly raise an army. ...Ferelden sounds pretty doomed.”

Fuck, the enormity of the situation was finally starting to sink in. 

“Are you seriously suggesting we run?” Alistair asked, showing the first emotion Regan had seen from him since she woke up. It was anger.

“We’re Wardens,” he continued, “we have a duty!”

“Well some of us didn’t exactly sign up willingly,” Regan snapped. That wasn’t entirely true. She probably would have left with Duncan anyway with the promise of a free life. But reality was that she had to sign up or she would die.

It then occurred to her that Alistair didn’t know the circumstances of her recruitment. 

“I had to join to save my life, because Templars” she gave him a pointed look, “were going to execute me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“You still can’t want to see Ferelden burn!” was Alistair’s reply. 

“What has Ferelden done for me, huh?” Regan asked with her arms crossed defensively. “I was born in a slum and taken to live in a prison.”

“The Blight will spread beyond Ferelden,” Flemeth reminded her. You and your fellow Wardens may be all that is protecting Thedas. There will be nowhere for you to run, child.”

Child. She sounded like Irving, a much more cool Irving.

But she was right. If no one stopped the Blight in Ferelden, it would spread. 

“Okay,” Regan asked, “why are you suggesting this? What do you have to gain from saving two newer Gray Wardens? You could have picked anyone from that battlefield.

“You were the easiest to reach,” Flemeth said with a glint in her eye. She sounded like she had another reason, but Regan could tell she wouldn’t divulge it. 

“Morrigan,” Flemeth suddenly declared, “you will go with them.”

“What?” Exclaimed the mage. An argument followed very quickly, which ended with Flemeth winning.

Regan was confused, but happy enough to have more backup. Alistair didn’t agree.

“How do we know we can trust her?” He asked Regan. “She’s a bog witch we just met.”

“What interest have I in another Blight?” Morrigan asked calmly. “I’m not happy about this either, by the by.”

“This could all be part of some sort of...I don’t know, scheme?”

Regan rolled her eyes. “So it’s not the lyrium that makes you lot so paranoid, huh? Just a few more scheming mages...”

“No that’s not- I’m not- just because...” Alistair spluttered, looking lost and frustrated. He didn’t argue further.

~~~~~~~~~~

The three unlikely allies made their way to Lothering in search of information.

Regan had lots of questions for Morrigan on the way, mostly about Flemeth and whatever magic she had taught her. 

Regan was also back in her robes, which she wasn’t happy about. If they ever got enough money to buy anything that wasn’t food, she’d get a new outfit. There was nothing quite like practically screaming “look at me I’m a mage!” in public.

On the way into Lothering after hours of uninterrupted silence, Regan spotted a patch of elfroot growing to the side of the road.

Regan trotted over to the patch and picked up a few, then walked back.

“What were you doing?” Asked Alistair. 

“Look, my root!” Regan grinned.

“I don’t get it.”

“Elfroot. I’m an elf.”

Alistair laughed.

“Anyway, it’s useful for healing. I never did very well at potions though...not much of an herbalist.”

“I have some passing skill, though I would have to practice first,” Morrigan added. Alistair stopped smiling, as if remembering she was there. Maybe he was uncomfortable traveling with mages outnumbering him. 

_Why was I joking around with Alistair again?_

Regan shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. He was a Templar, she told herself, don’t get cozy around him. Even if you’re saving the world together.

That just made Regan want to think about anything other than saving the world. She still couldn’t quite believe she was doing this. This was insane, completely insane. But here she was, traveling with one Templar and one apostate. What was it Alistair had said, the Blight brings people together? 

Still, Regan could not imagine stranger bedfellows. Well, she could certainly imagine Morrigan as her bedfellow, but not with Alistair. Ew.

Being in Lothering was like a breath of fresh air, even if the air was actually filthy. So many people, milling about...free. 

Regan smiled to herself and took in the scenery and the commotion. Her joy was only dampened somewhat by the sight of a man in a cage. Well, it can’t all be sunshine and rainbows. 

That thought was reinforced further when Regan’s drifting off had her bumping shoulders with a passing man. 

“Watch where you’re going, elf!” The man scoffed. 

“I’m _going_ to go fuck your mom,” Regan bit back. The man turned around, Regan squared her shoulders, but the situation was diffused by Alistair reaching a hand to his sword. The man sneered, but backed off. 

“Hey,” Alistair said, “maybe don’t stir up trouble when we don’t need it, yeah?”

Regan could only laugh. “I am trouble.”

“I’ve kind of noticed...”

One weird thing Regan observed in Lothering was that she wasn’t the only one attracting weird glances. Her staff drew attention, but a few people were staring at Alistair as he walked as well.

While walking through the town Regan spotted a humble looking chantry and frowned at it. She could see a few sisters outside, and one Templar. Even in this place, their presence stuck around like a miasma. 

The first place they went to find information was a bar. Even in the bar, Regan saw a chantry sister. Ugh. If the rats were here they should at least stay within their walls.

Regan decided to let Alistair do the talking, which was a mistake. He decided to open with “we’re the Gray Wardens-“ and all void broke loose. 

“Traitor!” Someone yelled, and punched him across the jaw. Another person pulled a knife, and then someone drew a sword. 

Regan cast a repulsion glyph around the three of them, and could see Morrigan readying a spell. Alistair unhelpfully ran right out of the glyph and swung his sword.

Regan and Morrigan cast spells from inside the glyph, but it didn’t last long. Regan readied an ice spell, then coated one of the assailants in a thin layer of frost. Two men were flanking Morrigan, about to attack when suddenly they started screaming and their swings became erratic. Morrigan smirked as the men trembled in fear, missing her every time. 

As Regan was freezing another man, a knife flew over her shoulder. This startled her, but what startled her more was the scream of a man right behind her. The knife had hit him instead, and he had been about to stab her with his own knife.

Regan whipped back around to find the source of the knife, confused. And then she saw something bizarre. The chantry sister had joined the brawl. The orange haired woman darted in and out of the crowd, dodging attacks and responding with her own. There was a practiced elegance in the way she moved, and something distinctly predatory. 

Once the fight was over, indicated by scared men running away and the bartender throwing his hands up in surrender, all Regan could do was stare at the woman. 

The woman noticed her looking and smiled sweetly. She then walked over to Regan and extended her hand.

“Hello Warden,” the chantry sister said, her voice accented and warm. 

“...hello. Uh...what just happened?”

“Please sit down,” the chantry sister said, motioning to an abandoned table. She didn’t seem at all phased by the fight that just took place.

Regan sat, but her companions were more cautious at first.

“I am Leliana,” she introduced herself. “What is your name?”

“Regan. Again, what the fuck was that about?”

“I am afraid you Wardens are not popular as of late. Everyone is talking about how your armies left King Cailan to die. Teryn Loghain has put the word out and is now leading Ferelden in place of the king.”

“...Oh shit,” was all Regan could think to say. 

The other two eventually sat down while Leliana continued to tell them all the recent news and gossip.

“That traitorous bastard!” Alistair frowned. “It was his armies that never appeared, and now he’s blaming us!”

“If Teryn Loghain says the Wardens abandoned their post,” Morrigan asked Leliana, “why do you not believe him?”

“I received a vision from the Maker that I am meant to help the Gray Wardens end the Blight,” Leliana said simply, like she was discussing the weather.

“No, no, that’s insane,” said Alistair. “The Maker doesn’t just talk to random chantry sisters.”

Leliana didn’t seem phased. “I am firm in my belief, Warden.”

“So you want to help us?” Regan asked, considering.

“Yes.”

“You’d travel with us and help us fight?”

“Yes.”

“Nope,” said Alistair, turning to Regan, “you can’t seriously be considering this. This is a chantry sister-“

“Who held her own in that fight,” Regan argued. 

“The woman is insane,” Morrigan said with no regard for Leliana sitting in front of her. 

Regan had to laugh. “Look, you’re agreeing! The Blight really does bring people together!”

Both Alistair and Morrigan gave Regan scandalized looks, each shifting away from the other. 

“We don’t have many allies,” Regan continued to argue. “So what if she helps? She’s not gonna slow us down, you saw her in the fight. This isn’t some normal chantry sister.”

Alistair gave Regan a look. 

“Do you wanna stop the Blight with three people?” Regan asked, exasperated. 

Neither Alistair nor Morrigan had a good response to that. 

“We’re taking her,” Regan said. Fuck, it felt good to be authoritative. It felt even better when they listened. 

So the group began to head out of Lothering with their newly acquired companion. They were about to leave when Regan’s curiosity got the better of her and she went to investigate the man in the cage. 

~~~~~~~~

“You’re a murderer?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you kill them?”

“I do not wish to say.”

“Are you gonna kill again?”

“No, because I will die soon.”

“And they’re just leaving you to die when the darkspawn attack?”

“Yes.”

“This is a proud and strong creature,” Morrigan observed, “and the chantry has just left him as bait for the darkspawn. 

“How long have you been in here?” Regan asked. 

“22 days,” answered the man. 

“Have they fed you?” Regan asked, alarmed. 

“No.”

“That’s cruel!” Regan exclaimed. “They shouldn’t execute a man by starvation...or darkspawn.”

Regan thought for a moment.

“Are you happy that you killed that family?”

“No.”

“Do you wish to atone for your crimes?”

“Death will be my atonement.”

“What if there was another way...” Regan began. Maker, Alistair was going to kill her for this. 

“We’re Gray Wardens, and we’re trying to stop the Blight. You could help us. If you’re truly a Qunari soldier, you’re strong.”

“I am very strong.”

As Regan suspected, Alistair had something to say. 

“Are you sure about this, Regan?” He asked quietly. “I don’t want the poor bastard to die by darkspawn either, but taking him with us...I just don’t know.”

“He’s another person. Right now you’re the only one who can swing a sword. This man could really help us.”

“Alright, if he wants to.” Alistair still looked worried, but didn’t question her. That was weird, he was technically the senior Warden.

“So, what about it?” Regan asked the man.

“Atone for my crimes by helping the Gray Wardens end the Blight...yes, I would like that.”

“Great! Now on to how to get you out of there.”

“Allow me,” said Leliana. She stepped forward, and way more quickly than should be possible had used some sort of hairpin to pick the lock.

The man stepped out, and Regan watched Leliana. Damn, she thought, what kind of chantry did she live in?

The man introduced himself formally as Sten of the Baarasad. Then he had to explain what the Baarasad was. 

On their way out of Lothering, Regan pestered him with questions about the Qunari. He answered maybe one third before declaring the conversation pointless. 

Also on their way out of Lothering they stopped at a blacksmith to buy Alistair armor that didn’t have the Gray Warden symbol all over it and bought Sten a sword. 

Alistair seemed reluctant to part with his uniform and Sten did not seem enthusiastic about the sword.

“...I suppose this is a necessity,” Sten sighed before sheathing the blade. Hm, curious. 

“What does that mean?” Regan asked him. He didn’t answer her, only grumbled.

This was going to be an interesting group. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The party set up camp in a forest clearing, Alistair and Regan sitting to the side and looking at a map of Ferelden. 

“Where do we go first?” He asked.

“Why are you asking me?” Regan raised an eyebrow. “You know, you have been deferring to my ideas a lot. I don’t want to be in charge, I’m new!”

Alistair looked highly uncomfortable. “Look, ah, I don’t...lead. I’m a soldier, I’m good at following orders.”

He wanted to follow Regan’s orders. Regan, an elf mage. This human, ex-Templar, wanted to follow her orders! It made Regan feel a little drunk on power. But then Regan started to feel the weight of the situation again. If Alistair was listening to her, whatever happened to Ferelden was on her.

“Wait wait,” Regan said, the air suddenly seeming thicker. “I just started being a Warden, I can’t lead. I don’t know anything about the Wardens.”

“...I’m newer than you think,” Alistair admitted.

“No one needs to follow anyone’s orders,” Regan decided. “We decide things together.”

“Okay.”

Regan supposed that was some progress. It had to be progress, because Regan could not stop a Blight effectively by herself. She was just a troublemaker, she just messed with people in order to avoid going mad. She sat in the back of class and threw balled up paper, she carved dirty things on desks. She snuck into the stores of food the Templars had and swapped the sugar and the salt. She gathered dead bugs to put in Cullen’s shoes! 

She didn’t save people or stop Blights.

Sure, she was Irving’s “star pupil”, a fact that annoyed the Templars and many Enchanters. But that was because of “raw talent”, not any kind of dedication to study. Her one constant in life was being a professional nuisance.

Regan decided to sit near Morrigan’s side of camp, because it was far away from everyone else. The sun was going down, and Sten was setting a fire.

Regan rested her head in her hands and sighed. 

“Troubled?” Morrigan asked. 

“Didn’t know you cared.” 

“You are the commander, I should care how you are faring.”

“Don’t remind me. I never wanted this, I’m just... My biggest goal in life was to get out of the Circle, I didn’t plan any further than that.”

“T’is a good thing you made no plans, then,” Morrigan said simply. “I doubt you could have planned for what life has given you.”

“Life has given me jack shit,” Regan said bitterly. 

Morrigan laughed, but not unkindly. “Yes, I suppose you are right. But we must stop the Blight, and we cannot do that if we let the idiot lead. I am far happier following you.”

“He’s not that stupid,” Regan replied. 

“Defending a Templar...” Morrigan teased. “I thought you hated them.”

“Ex-Templar.”

“So there’s a distinction? Do not grow too fond of that one, for your own sake. He listens to you because he is a dim-witted coward, but if he gets braver...you never know.”

Regan didn’t respond, but she did feel the itch to defend the man. Stupid. _She’s right, Regan, you can’t let your guard down. You won your freedom, you have to keep it._

Regan and Morrigan shared a companionable silence while Morrigan fiddled with some herbs. Practicing making poultices, she had said. 

In the distance she could see Leliana talking Alistair’s ear off about something. Regan liked Leliana, despite the whole chantry sister thing. From what she could tell, Leliana was kind. Regan hadn’t put much stock in “kind” before, but Leliana seemed to really...mean it. And there was the mysterious added element of her fighting skills. Leliana dodged every question Regan had for her regarding that. 

At night, they all retreated to their tents. Regan was sharing a tent with Leliana, and Alistair with Sten. He hadn’t been happy about that.

Leliana had been able to afford to buy a bedroll on the way out of Lothering, so she didn’t have to just curl up in the corner. Sten, as Regan understood, planned just lay on his back on the floor.

Regan was glad she got Leliana for a roommate, as she wasn’t too keen on sleeping next to the murderer. She was even less keen on sleeping next to Alistair. It was unfair of her, but there it was. 

So far Alistair had been nothing but kind to her, and Regan still couldn’t trust him. 

Templar. That’s all she heard in the back of her mind. Regan liked to put on a brave face at the Circle, pretend she feared nothing and no one, but that wasn’t true. She may mess with Templars, pull harmless pranks to vent her frustration, but she would never cross one or trust one. And never, ever let her guard down in front of one. 

Regan had attacked the Templars when they first took her to the Circle. She was 8 years old and has climbed the man like a squirrel, yelling like mad and attempting to scratch at the weak points in his armor. She even electrocuted two of them before they drained her magic and hauled her away forever. 

Forever until now, Regan reminded herself. She was free.


	5. In This Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regan has a mysterious dream, and the gang goes to Redcliff.

A small elven girl sat in the corner of the apprentice’s quarters, her legs curled up under her and her head resting on her knees. She was trying, mostly failing, not to cry. Small tears slid down her cheeks as she longed for her home.

The elven girl older now, about 10. The control she had over her magic was a cut above the rest, and this caught the First Enchanter’s attention. She was petulant, didn’t follow directions well, was a distraction in class... all the teachers hated her, but couldn’t possibly deny her gifts. The girl had no respect for those around her, only her own bitterness and need for some form of control. She bristled under the constant scrutiny of the tower.

The girl was 13 when she first got caught vandalizing the tower’s church. Someone had come in while she was in the process of carving a particularly creative curse word into one of the pews after she had finished knocking over statues.

The girl was led to Irving’s office with her head held high. About halfway there, however, she decided it would be more fun to stop walking entirely and make the Templar escorting her have to literally drag her there. She laughed the whole way, but he was not amused.

The girl was 16 now and knew how to keep her troublemaking harder to catch. Sometimes her rebellions were small, like moving every table in the lunchroom one foot to the left and enjoying the confused look when everyone wondered if they were going crazy. She waited patiently in the church for one of the chantry sisters to arrive, casting a quick grease spell and watching with glee as the woman skidded past every pew and papers flew everywhere as she fell. 

The girl was now newly 19, standing in the midst of rotting corpses. Something roared in the distance, armies charged across a battlefield and the girl felt whispering words howling through her ears. The girl was afraid. The girl panicked, couldn’t access her magic, tried to scream-

~~~~~~~~~

Regan awoke with a gasp, clutching her bedroll to herself. She thankfully hadn’t woken her tentmate. 

Regan felt cold all over but knew she was a sweaty mess. The confines of the tent suddenly felt stifling, so Regan got up and exited as quietly as she could. Her nightclothes were just the old menswear from Morrigan’s house, so Regan had to lift up her pant legs as she walked over to the dying fire. There was already a figure sitting there, staring into the flames. Alistair.

“Nightmares?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Nightmares.”

“One of the unpleasant side effects of the joining. We’re connected to the darkspawn hive mind.”

Regan didn’t reply, only stared into the fire. Being outside still hardly felt real. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Alistair admitted. “Duncan should be alive instead of me, he would be able to help.”

“Well it’s you who survived,” Regan shrugged. “I shouldn’t be alive either, you know. I’m not any more helpful than you. I should have died in Kinloch Hold, I should have died at Ostagar. Someone at the tower also tried to make me Tranquil, and that’s basically dead.”

“What?” Alistair asked, snapping out of his stupor. “How did you...avoid that?”

“I was a kid, the Knight Commander ultimately found that unethical.”

“Someone tried to make a child Tranquil?” Alistair looked highly disturbed.

“It was just a few Templars who argued for it, but one was pretty loud about it. I was a nuisance, I was defiant, I talked back...and I attacked him once. Even after he drained my magic, I just hit him with my staff.”

Regan chuckled. “He didn’t expect it, not used to any of us fighting back. I gave him a concussion. I was in sooooo much trouble.”

“How can you just smile like that?” Alistair asked. “That’s horrible.” 

“It’s not even the most trouble I ever got in,” Regan continued, not sure why she was telling this to Alistair of all people. 

“The most trouble was when I defended one of the other elven girls. Some men have a bit of a fetish, and Ser Creepy wasn’t leaving her alone. I caught him getting particularly aggressive one day and didn’t think before I shot him with lighting. I hit him three times before he managed to Smite me. He dragged me right to the Knight Commander, and then I was off to solitary for a week.”

“They put you in solitary confinement?”

“I won’t say it’s pleasant, but I got off easy. That was before my Harrowing, I’m sure someone would have argued Tranquility made more sense. But I was the First Enchanter’s favorite, so he got me out okay. He was pissed though. 

...so I suppose that’s three times I should have died in the tower.”

“Why do you keep getting into trouble if your life is in danger?”

“I don’t think before I act sometimes. I run my mouth because I have to. I’m a petulant brat, it’s who I am. It’s either that or kill myself.”

“That’s not something to joke about.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Regan replied, looking away. “Mages die by suicide all the time. My mentor says everyone has to find their outlet, and I told him mine was making trouble. Not the answer he wanted to hear.”

Alistair didn’t reply and there was silence for a long while, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“So how long were you a Templar?” Regan found herself asking. 

“I never took my oaths, so no time at all.”

“But you said ex-Templar?”

“I figured that was an easier explanation, after all I did the training. Does that change anything?” He finished hopefully.

“...no,” Regan decided. Alistair didn’t reply. 

After a while longer, Regan went back to her tent.

~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, Alistair decided to take the lead. He wanted the group to head to Redcliff to seek out Arl Eamon. 

On the way over Alistair and Morrigan bickered, Leliana told Regan bits of trivia about the area, and Sten said nothing. 

Regan was currently talking to Leliana, who despite the whole chantry thing, Regan quite liked. Her presence was...soft. Everything about her seemed soft. Her lilting accent, her hair, her face... 

She talked a lot, and Regan found she quite liked to listen. Leliana told stories with such passion that Regan cared about whatever it was she was speaking of. 

There was just one problem about Leliana, which was the chantry garb she wore. 

“Why did you decide to join the chantry?” Regan asked out of the blue. 

“I am only a Lay Sister, I never took any vows. But I stay there because the chantry took me in when I needed it.”

“That’s it? Just because they helped you?”

“You must not underestimate kindness in a time of great need. When I got there, it felt like home.”

“The chantry has never felt like home to me,” Regan replied. “The chantry took me from my home.”

Regan felt the silence that followed in the way wind swept through the trees. Leliana was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. 

“That is a great injustice, I think.”

That’s not what Regan expected.

“Really?” Regan tried not to stare. “You’re living in the chantry, a devout Andrastian, but you think it’s injustice that they take mages from their families.”

Leliana smiled a sardonic smile.

“Truthfully, I had never thought about it until now. You have opened my eyes to a new perspective, Regan.”

Maybe it was because she had just validated Regan’s unpopular opinions, but Regan really liked the way her name sounded in Leliana’s voice. She felt seen in a way she rarely was. Somehow in that sentence, Leliana said that she saw Regan as more than just a mage. She was just Regan.

_Pull yourself together! She just said your name, it’s not a big deal! You’re just reading too much into it..._

“And you’re okay just...thinking something the chantry does is wrong?”

“I am faithful to the Maker, not the chantry,” Leliana said very seriously. 

Hm, Regan hadn’t ever met someone like that. Faithful to the Maker but not the chantry... Regan had always thought the two were intertwined. 

“You’re weird, Leliana.” Regan decided.

Leliana took no offense, just laughed. “And so are you, little Warden.”

It should have sounded demeaning, it really should have. Why didn’t it? 

“I’m not that little,” Regan responded, trying not to let on how flustered she was. “You’re just a human. Or maybe you’re just freakishly tall?”

Leliana laughed again, melodic like a wind chime. Or maybe what chantry bells should sound like. 

“I am sorry, normal-sized Warden.”

Regan found herself smiling.

~~~~~~~~~

Regan’s good mood persisted all the way to Redcliff. The group was setting up camp just outside the boarder, joined by the dwarf merchant and his odd son they had picked up on the way.

It didn’t seem worthwhile to lug all their equipment into Redcliff, so Sten had elected to watch camp until they returned in a few days.

“How are you going to pass the time?” Regan asked Sten as she loaded up her pack. 

“By waiting,” was his stern response. Regan laughed out loud at that. 

“Good one, Sten.”

“You seem to think I intend to be humorous. I do not.”

“And yet you so often are.”

Sten grumbled, which is how he usually signaled to Regan that the conversation was over. Well, over for now. Regan was a curious bastard and she would get answers out of him yet. Logically, Regan should be more careful about angering the Qunari murderer, especially given what she had heard about their treatment of mages. But since when was Regan ever smart about the battles she picked? 

The view overlooking Redcliff was beautiful. Regan was about to head down the hill path when Alistair cleared his throat rather loudly. 

“Yeah?” She asked, turning to find the man swaying awkwardly on his feet. 

“So you know how I know Arl Eamon?”

“Yeah? That’s why we’re going here?”

“It’s uh...about how I know him.”

“Ex lover?” Regan asked.

“Ew, no!” Alistair exclaimed. “No no, it’s...he’s my family.”

“You’re nobility?” Regan asked. “Why are you a Warden then?”

“Well...it’s kind of a secret that I’m nobility. And I’m not actually nobility. I’m a bastard.”

Morrigan stifled a laugh. 

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself,” Regan smirked.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’m not just any bastard, I’m...the bastard son of King Maric.”

Okay, that floored Regan. Leliana and Morrigan looked equally surprised. 

“King Cailan is your brother?” Regan asked, needing confirmation that Alistair was freaking royalty.

“Yes. My mother was a servant. I was a dirty secret, but Arl Eamon took me in when I was young. He’s a good man. But, uh...I just figured you should know. That...I’m a royal bastard.”

“May I have that transcribed?” Morrigan asked. “For reference later.”

“Shove it,” Alistair muttered. He looked the picture of misery. Regan decided she was done teasing His Highness. 

“And why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Is that really something you lead with? Hi, nice to meet you, here are my family secrets?”

Well, he had Regan there. She shrugged. 

“I also don’t want people thinking any different of me,” Alistair continued. “I’m not actually royalty, I have no claim to the throne. I’m just a Gray Warden.”

“Fair,” Regan said. “That’s fair. I’m glad you told me, that would have been a weird surprise when we got there. Although now that I know you’re that familiar with the nobles I’m gonna ask that you do the talking. The closest I’ve ever come to talking to a noble was briefly being introduced to Cailan, and I immediately caused trouble.”

“What did you do?” Asked Leliana. 

“I think I said something like “you’re no king of mine, human lord.””

“Why on earth did you say that?” Asked Alistair. “You were raised in the Circle, you live in human society.”

“Wanted to see how he’d react, I think. I don’t know, it’s just what came out. But that’s what I mean when I say I’m not good at talking to nobility. I’m kind of allergic to authority and suffer from a chronic need to backtalk.”

“...that’s a colorful description,” was Alistair’s reply. “But from what I know of you, an accurate one. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to the nobles.”

“This surely made you a delight in that Circle of yours,” Morrigan grinned. 

“Oh of course! Also, not ‘my’ Circle.”

~~~~

Regan prepared for a nice walk down the hill, which was instantly ruined when a man greeted them with warnings that the dead were rising and that no one had been able to reach the castle in days. Then they were introduced to Bann Teagan, who was apparently leading Redcliff in the absence of the Arl.

“Run this by me again,” Regan told the Bann. “The undead are coming _from_ the castle?”

“Yes, Wardens. Every night. I fear tonight will be the worst attack yet. Please, help us defend Redcliff. Then you can seek out the Arl.”

“Or,” Morrigan suggested, “we could head for the castle now. Must we fight off a horde of undead in a battle we might not win? T’is a risk I do not wish to take.”

“And just leave them?” Asked Alistair at the same time Leliana responded with uncharacteristic harshness “no, we must defend these innocent people!”

Then everyone looked to Regan, as if this was her decision. 

“We help,” said Regan. Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Leliana and Alistair are right, we can’t just leave these people to die. Even if we can’t save everyone we should try.”

“T’will be a joyous day for the darkspawn when the last Gray Wardens in Ferelden fall to an undead army,” Morrigan bit back. “I am simply being pragmatic.”

“I do see your point, Morrigan. But...you’re outvoted, Alistair and Leliana both want to help.”

Morrigan didn’t say anything else, but was clearly unhappy. 

“Thank you, Wardens,” Bann Teagan told them. “Come down to the village and help us prepare.”

And so they did. The village was miserable, showing the signs of the nightly slaughter clearly. Soldiers trained despite injuries, children were ushered into the chantry, people were boarding up their windows. Regan was beginning to feel doubt in her decision as she saw more and more of the destruction the undead were responsible for.

The day was filled by running about securing various items for Redcliff, talking to people, and shaking down a few people. Oh, and planning to set some barrels on fire.

Exhausted, the party was sitting around a table in a quiet tavern. Morrigan looked even grumpier than she had when the day began. 

“That should be all, right?” Alistair asked. “We did everything we could to prepare.” 

“And then some,” Morrigan muttered. 

“I know you’re not happy,” Regan told her, “but this is the right thing to do. I think. And it’ll only be one more night until we can get to the castle.”

“At some point our Qunari friend is going to think us deceased,” Morrigan said with a raised eyebrow. 

“I still can’t believe you wanted to let these people die,” Alistair retorted.

“These people are going to die anyway,” Morrigan argued. “We are only four people, not an army. You Wardens fight darkspawn, not undead.”

“What exactly should our strategy be?” Alistair asked Regan, pointedly ignoring Morrigan. “Besides, you know...fight.”

“Ah, an excellent question from the village idiot,” Morrigan jeered. “What indeed, fearless leader?” She turned the question on Regan, who was for some reason the leader.

“Give it a rest Morrigan,” Regan groaned. “We have those barrels of oil, so we can get some undead in the fire. Alistair, what kinds of strategy do Gray Wardens use?”

“Uh...fight?”

“Oh!” Morrigan was now practically beaming, “how delightful! Truly the greatest minds in all of Thedas.”

“If you don’t want to fight, then go back to camp!” Regan snapped. Keep calm, Regan. 

“But Alastair, that’s really it?”

“I haven’t been with the Wardens long enough to get a sense of large scale battles yet. Ostagar was supposed to be the first...”

“Alright...alright...” Regan thought aloud. “From the castle there are some obvious ways into the city. We line those paths with barrels, then I can shoot some fire to light them when the undead arrive. I can’t quite cast fireball to its full capacity yet, but I can shoot fire.”

“If you need, we can make use of flaming arrows too,” Leliana added. “We can each cover half of the barrels.”

Why did a chantry sister know how to make flaming arrows again?

“Good idea. Leliana, are you better with swords or a bow?”

“A bow and arrow is my preferred weapon.”

“Okay, that means everyone except Alistair is a ranged fighter.”

“I can lead the ground forces,” Alistair volunteered. “I’m good at drawing attention. It’ll be like how we beat that ogre at Ostagar.”

The group descended further into strategy discussions as the sun went down. Even Morrigan joined the conversation eventually, passionately explaining all the horrifying spells she knew that would be useful. She may be a bit of a bitch, but damn was she a cool bitch. 

By the time night fell, Regan was actually feeling a little confident. They may not be seasoned Gray Wardens, but they had a plan. Everyone was waiting at their stations, and they didn’t have to wait long. 

Shuffling bodies advanced from the darkness in a swarm, moving more quickly than Regan had expected. 

Regan and Leliana lit the barrels, and the fire spread instantly. The undead payed the fire no mind, running right through it. By the time they reached the soldiers, most were on fire and thus already damaged. 

The beginning of the fight was easy for Regan, she just had to keep her distance and shoot the undead. But as the battle dragged on, as Leliana ran out of arrows and Regan’s mana was waning, the undead were still coming. 

The soldiers were starting to become overwhelmed as well, still busy with the old undead when the new ones attacked.

“Everyone fall back!” Regan yelled. She led everyone slightly up the hill, waiting for the stragglers. The undead were slightly slower then the soldiers, some of them just standing there confused after the retreat. 

“Stay behind me!” Regan told the group as she readied a spell. She’d never used it for this wide an area before, but it should work...

Regan concentrated on the path where the undead were shambling up, conjuring lighting from the Fade above them. It took all her concentration to cast, and it was taking a few seconds she did not have. A few undead had already left her area of effect, shambling up to Regan. For a moment she feared she would have to drop the spell, but Alistair dashed over and decapitated the corpse.

The spell finally cast, and lightning fell on the gathered swarm of undead, knocking a good few of them out. The others looked damaged. 

The fight continued on this hill, Regan further retreating to get some distance between herself and the enemies. Leliana had joined Alistair in the fray now with daggers, and Morrigan stayed back. 

When finally the last of the undead were slaughtered, one of the soldiers pointed down the hill to where more were advancing.

“Andraste’s ass!” Regan cursed, “how in the name of the Maker are there more?”

Alistair looked like he agreed, but he was too occupied crouching over and panting to reply. Leliana was looking much worse for wear, her chantry robes torn in many places and covered in spots of what was likely her own blood.

“Stay behind me,” Regan told her, keeping a close eye on the approaching undead. Leliana obeyed without a word.

“I don’t think you can fight anymore. I’ll keep them away from you.

“You must not prioritize me,” Leliana replied firmly. Then she sighed. “If only I had more arrows...”

“Who has arrows?” Regan yelled to the crowd. No one responded. Great.

The undead were almost upon them, and Regan gathered what little mana she had regenerated to create another lightning storm. This helped pick off some of the undead, but the soldiers were still outnumbered. As soldiers fell, the undead crept closer to Regan. Soon, they were surrounding her. Leliana let out a battle cry and charged back in, despite her injuries. 

An undead raised its sword at Regan, and she barely got out of the way in time. After a second swing, Regan did the only thing she could think of. She swung back with her staff.

Two more undead flanked her, and Regan had enough mana for a mind blast. This stunned them long enough for her to stab one with the pointy end of her staff. When the others regained control, Regan started to panic. She had no mana left, nothing but weak blasts from her staff and using it as a weapon. Regan did just that for a few swings, but it wasn’t working. Just when Regan felt truly helpless, Leliana swiftly moved in and dispatched the two undead. 

Regan breathed a sigh of relief, and then became confused when she heard cheering. Looking around her, she saw that there were no more undead in sight. They had won. 

Regan decided the ground was an excellent place to sit. She only got up when the rest of the soldiers began to walk back down the hill. Regan conjured a wisp of light as she walked.

“That did not end in disaster,” Morrigan told Regan. “T’was quite exciting.”

“So helping these people was a good idea?”

“I did not say that.”

Regan counted this as a win, anyway. 

It was still the middle of the night, and they needed someplace to sleep. Luckily an innkeeper was willing to let them stay for free for a night as thanks for their protection. 

Regan and her friends were now lounging in the common area, all aching and tired after the battle. Leliana in particular had to dress many wounds.

“You should wear armor,” Regan told her. “I’m sure we can get some before we head into the castle. 

“That might be a good idea, yes. I must confess I am more suited to ranged combat.” Even bandaged up as she was, Leliana was still smiling. 

“Right now Alistair is the only one who can be on the frontlines,” Regan pointed out. “That’s not ideal. If I’d have known about the undead I’d would’ve brought Sten.”

“We managed fine,” said Morrigan.

“At the end though, I was so fucked if that hadn’t been the end of the swarm.” 

No one had any reply. They were all new at this too, this whole strategy thing. 

“I must say it’s a lot easier to take down those undead when they were already fried by lightning,” Alistair said. “I suppose that’s the benefit of fighting with a mage.”

“As opposed to fighting a mage?”Regan added with a raised eyebrow.

Alistair’s face fell. “That’s not what I meant! I just didn’t see myself fighting alongside mages on the battlefield when-“

“You were a Templar.”

“No, when I was a Warden! There aren’t many mages in the Wardens.”

“Surprised we haven’t summoned any demons yet?” Regan scowled. 

Alistair’s only reply was to awkwardly excuse himself to his room. That kind of killed the conversation, and Regan had the decency to feel guilty. Shortly thereafter, everyone else headed to their rooms. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small elven girl discovered her magic when she was seven years old. The girl’s mother cried, and her father remained stoic. 

The girl knew what fate awaited her when she was inevitably discovered. The girl’s family told her that she needed to hide her magic from everyone, which the girl understood. What she didn’t understand was why her parents couldn’t take her away to safety. Why did they keep her here and wait for discovery? Why did her older sister look at her that way? Why did her older brother stay away now? Wasn’t she still Regan? 

The girl still got into scrapes with the other children, still made trouble in the city. It all ended for her when that man struck her small face. She couldn’t control it, a wave of energy knocked him away in her panic.

It was over. 

Someone reported her to the Templars that very day, and her family did nothing as she was dragged away. 

Irving was scolding the girl, now thirteen, about how much trouble she made for herself. At least she had never tried to escape the Circle, she reasoned with him. 

He sighed, and replied that it was only because she knew she would be caught. 

He was right, even Regan knew some things were impossible. In Denerim, you didn’t anger the Shem. In the Circle, you didn’t escape. 

“I can’t pretend I’m happy here, Irving,” said the girl. 

“I know you are not, child. But you must accept how things are, the sooner you do that the happier you will be. Be content with the roof over your head, with education and a warm bed.”

“I don’t give a shit about any of that!” Regan replied, trying not to yell. She had enough of that bullshit from the older mages, she would never be content! 

“That’s what I always admired about you,” came another voice. 

Regan looked around, confused, as the Fade shifted around her. The voice sounded familiar. 

Regan was 19, dreaming, and confused. She waited for the voice to return.

“You will never be content with what you were given.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Regan yelled back, still trying to find the source of the voice. 

A familiar laugh echoed.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

~~~~~~~~~

Regan woke up. It wasn’t dramatic like last time, there had been no darkspawn nightmares. 

Had that been a demon? Regan hadn’t been approached by demons in a long time, at least a year. In her childhood they had found her an easy mark, trying to pray on her misery. But soon the demons discovered that as much as Regan hated the Circle, she would not submit to the power of another to escape it. Turns out hating being told what to do extended to Fade dwellers as well. 

Regan was unable to get back to sleep after that, worrying that the voice had been some kind of demon. Pride, perhaps? 

She eventually decided to go outside and get some air. She crept out quietly, a skill learned in the Circle, in order not to wake anybody. 

In some kind of cosmic joke on her, like last time, Alistair was there. He was sitting on a barrel with one knee drawn up to his chest. 

“Hey,” Regan said, a little awkwardly. 

Alistair jolted, almost falling off the barrel. 

“Sorry,” Regan added. “I uh, couldn’t sleep. Weird dream.”

“Darkspawn?”

“No...just a strange dream.”

“...demons?”

“Oh Maker, Alistair, I’m not gonna burst into an abomination!”

Coming out here was a colossal mistake. 

“That’s...not what I...I was just asking. I’m sorry, I keep putting my foot in my mouth around you.” 

The man looked truly remorseful. 

Regan felt a pang of guilt. Alistair had not made one move against her, and she had snapped at him so many times. Maybe...despite the Templar thing...she had an apology of her own to make. 

“I’ve been unfair.”

Alistair looked at her in surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” she continued. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I...haven’t returned that kindness. All I saw was a Templar, not a fellow Warden. Which is what you are, a Warden like me. It’s not Templars and mages here, it’s just Wardens.”

Alistair nodded, but looked as if he was afraid to say anything. 

“You shouldn’t be afraid to ask me about mage stuff. As a Templar trainee you would know a bit about it.”

“I’m still sorry I made you feel that defensive,” Alistair told her. “I understand the anger you carry. The Templar Order...it’s a bunch of bullshit.”

Now that threw Regan. Not only was Alistair swearing, he was actually badmouthing the Order.

“Why did you join?” 

“I had to. Lady Isolde, Eamon‘s wife, wasn’t fond of me. They shipped me off to the chantry to be trained.”

“Oh. Shit, I’ve been a real asshole then haven’t I? You were trapped too.”

“It’s not the same,” Alistair replied, “I did have the option to leave, just nowhere else to go. Duncan gave me a place, he got me out before I was initiated. You were just...trapped, like all mages.”

Regan couldn’t think of anything to say other than a small “yeah.”

“All that is to say,” continued Alistair, “I understand why you hated me. Why you would fear me.”

“Pfft, I wasn’t afraid of you,” Regan lied. Alistair called her on it.

“I did visit some Circles, during my training. When you first met me, you looked like the mages there.”

“I’m nothing like those mages,” Regan frowned. “I’m not afraid of Templars, I hate them.”

Alistair still wasn’t buying it. 

“Well...whatever you felt about me, you were justified. I only hope...I only hope to prove you wrong, about me.”

Regan wasn’t sure what to say to that. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Not a Templar and a mage. A Warden, and another Warden.

“I won’t keep stopping you,” Regan told him. “I want to be proven wrong too. I can’t promise I won’t have...reactions, sometimes, but...I want to trust you.”

Regan’s heart pounded in her chest as she said the last sentence. Trust a Templar, how stupid, her mind told her over and over again. Every instinct was screaming at her to stop, but all those instincts were so exhausting. It was so tiring to fear a man you fought alongside, to constantly keep an eye on him. Waiting for him to show his true colors, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to be betrayed.

Regan was tired of that brand of paranoia. She wanted to trust her fellow Warden.

“I...thank you,” Alistair said. “I’ll try to be worthy of that trust.”

The two Wardens passed more time in companionable silence, feeling the slight breeze. It was nice, Regan thought. Eventually Alistair started talking about his lonely childhood, and the Arl and Lady Isolde. 

Regan shared a few tidbits about her life before the Circle, such as her mother’s Dalish cooking or all the arranged marriages that happened in the alienage. 

“Your mother was Dalish?” Alistair asked eventually. 

“Yup. Had valleslin and everything. She had a bad falling out with her clan though and moved to live among the humans. Bad choice if you ask me. But she made it work, married and made money as a tailor.”

“So she really made something for herself in Denerim,” said Alistair. “Good for her.”

Regan’s face was carefully blank as she replied. “Yeah, she did.”

Luckily Alistair heard the tension behind Regan’s words and stopped asking about her family. Regan moved on to safer territory and talked about all the trouble she got into and how many times she scraped herself while climbing fragile infrastructure. It was a safe conversation, even if it came with a sense of longing for the way Regan felt on top of the world as she had stood over crumbling city on some dangerous ledge. 

When she went back inside, Regan had no trouble finding sleep again. 

~~~~~~~~

The next day the group sent went to meet Bann Teagan by the windmill. There was a woman with him who introduced herself as Lady Isolde. Regan didn’t like her on instinct, remembering what Alistair said. Anyone who sent a child away against their will wasn’t good news. 

Lady Isolde described the situation in the palace, how the Arl had been poisoned by a mage. 

“A court mage?” Regan asked. “Why were they stationed in the castle?”

“I do not have time to explain,” replied Isolde. “The mage has poisoned my husband and unleashed evil.”

“And we will find the mage in the castle? What are we up against?”

“We have apprehended him, he is in the dungeon.”

“But the undead are still rising,” Regan asked, confused and slightly suspicious. “Why would such a powerful mage allow himself to be caught?”

“I...I do not know, but you must save me and my family! I have to go, Teagan, come back with me. I was only allowed to leave to bring help, but Teagan must come back with me alone.”

“You’re being threatened by a mage in a cell?” Regan asked with crossed arms. Definitely suspicious. 

“Lady Isolde, your story is quite confusing,” Alistair added. “If we knew more about the mage we would be better prepared.”

Lady Isolde only muttered some half formed sentences and retreated to the windmill. Teagan gave Alistair an apologetic look.

“I’m sure you can handle it, you’re a Templar.”

“Ex Templar,” replied Alistair, “and it still helps to know what I’m attacking.”

“I have every confidence in you. But, ah, and I mean no offense ladies...”

Uh oh.

“Are there any others you could bring? I’m not sure more magic is what the castle needs right now...”

Oh for fucks-

Before Regan could retaliate, Alistair beat her too it. 

“What the castle needs is two Gray Wardens, and we have that here. Respectfully, ser.”

Bann Teagan gave Regan and Morrigan one more skeptical look before leaving to join Lady Isolde.

As the two nobles left, Regan spoke quietly. 

“We’re following them, right? That was totally suspicious.”

“Yup,” was Alistair’s response. 

The group waited for a minute to give the nobles a bit of a head start; and the headed for the windmill themselves to find the secret passage. It was easy enough to locate, and Alistair led the way. 

As the group descended the stairs, Regan tapped Alistair’s shoulder. He gave her a questioning look. 

“Thank you, for what you said back there.”

“Oh,” replied Alistair, clearly surprised. “You’re welcome, but there’s no need. We’re in this together.”

For some reason, Regan believed it.


	6. They’re All The Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an argument.

It was going fine until they found the mage in the cell.

“Jowan?” Regan all but yelled, utterly taken aback. “Fucking...Jowan?! What the ever loving fuck are you doing here?”

Jowan said nothing, only cringed. 

“Oh of course it’s you, you Maker damned idiot,” Regan continued. “Why is it always you? Why?!”

“I was only trying to help my country,” Jowan explained. “Teryn Loghain said-“

Regan put her head in her hands as Jowan continued his story. Then he had the audacity to ask to be let out so he could “make things right.”

“How am I supposed to believe anything you say to me?” Regan replied incredulously. “How? Tell me Jowan, how?”

Jowan only simpered some more. More excuses, just excuses like last time. 

“I’m not letting you out,” Regan said. “If I let you out and you hurt anyone else that’s on me. I won’t be responsible for whoever’s life you try to ruin next.”

“That’s rich coming from the person who turned me in!” Jowan finally defended himself.

“I had to! When you got caught, “when” not “if”, you would have somehow mentioned my name and then it would be me in trouble too!”

With that, Regan stormed off. The others awkwardly followed. 

“Let’s take a break for a second,” Regan suggested when they entered a storage room. There had been undead in the previous hallways and Regan thought everyone needed the chance to apply any health poultices they needed or catch their breath. 

Leliana fiddled with the lock on a trunk in the corner while Regan sat to the side.

Alistair sat next to her. “Sooo, there’s history between you and that mage.”

“Oh, history is sure a word for it. He tried to get me to help him escape the Circle. Spun some sob story about them trying to make him tranquil. Turns out he’s a blood mage. He’s not actively malicious, just...stupid. I can’t believe he resorted to blood magic, like that was gonna solve anything. Being in debt to a demon is the same as being trapped in the Circle.”

“But you told on him.”

“Yeah. I’m not proud of it, but I did. I’d just passed my Harrowing, freedom was basically dangling right in front of me. It was too big a risk that he would let it slip I knew about his plan. He became a blood mage and then tried to use me to get out of trouble. We weren’t even that close.” Regan chuckled mirthlessly. “We both just had no friends.”

“And you’re worried he’s still planning something?”

“No. He doesn’t plan. But if he’s a blood mage and has demons whispering in his ear, he’s going to fall for their tricks eventually. He’s so stupid it’s dangerous. I feel sorry for him, but...I don’t trust him.”

“Ahah!” Leliana exclaimed as she opened the trunk. “Regan, there are weapons in here. And some armor that looks like your size.”

Regan got to her feet immediately and went to investigate. Leliana handed her the bundle of armor and clothing. 

Regan started stripping, causing Alistair to turn away with a yelp. 

The clothing fit, and so did the light armor. 

“Yes!” Regan exclaimed. “This is much better. Actual protection.” Her Circle robes had also been patched up so many times she was starting to worry about the structural integrity. 

And best of all...pants!

Not even the feeling of pants made up for the sheer amount of undead in the next hallway. Every door they passed swung open to reveal more enemies, and even with the rest they had the group was getting tired. It didn’t help that Alistair was the only front-liner, which meant he could be easily overwhelmed. Regan, Leliana, and Morrigan were skilled at a distance, but the two mages struggled when enemies got up close. Leliana could hold her own, but there wasn’t quite the same level of expertise that she had with a bow. 

All of them were now at least a few floors up when they had to barricade themselves in one of the Arl’s studies to take time to patch up and catch their breath. Alistair and Morrigan were holding the door closed against the banging of undead while Regan and Leliana frantically searched the room for anything useful like health poultices. While searching the desk Regan come upon a crackled amulet. Something about it seemed familiar, or maybe important, so she pocketed it without thinking. 

Eventually the undead got board of trying to break down the door and shuffled away. Alistair slid down door to sit, groaning. Morrigan would never do something so undignified, so she leaned against the wall to catch her breath. 

“I found more arrows!” Leliana announced cheerfully to the silent room. 

Alistair gave a tired thumbs up. 

“Why does the Arl have arrows in his study?” Regan wondered, still searching the shelves. So far one drawer had contained a health poultice. 

“Who do you think is doing all this?” Alistair asked no one in particular. “It can’t be the mage in the cell, right?”

“No way,” Regan agreed. “I don’t know what Lady Isolde is hiding, but it’s probably important.”

“Lady Isolde wouldn’t harm Arl Eamon,” Alistair said.

“We must press on to find out,” said Morrigan. “T’is no use hiding in this study.”

“Right. Right,” Regan sighed. “How about we try to lure one or two of them in here and then Alistair keeps the door shut while the rest of us absolutely wreck them.”

They went with that plan, sending Leliana out to catch the attention of a few undead at a time. The process was slow but effective. Morrigan looked impressed, although she didn’t say anything. 

The next room the party found themselves in housed two full-on rage demons. Leliana gasped and stepped back, and Alistair’s eyes widened. 

“They’re the weakest kind of demon,” Regan told them. “Should be easy.”

“For a mage perhaps!” Replied Alistair as the demons charged them. 

“Oh Maker, Alistair,” said Regan as she froze one for a moment and readied another spell, “you’re a Templar for fucks sake.”

“Ex Templar!” Alistair yelled back as he took a swing through the other demon. He looked mildly terrified, but he fought on regardless. “I never fought a demon! I never even fought a mage!”

Regan grinned at his reply where before she would have scowled. When the demons died they gurgled and melted into the floors. 

Leliana was muttering a frightened prayer to herself, Morrigan just looked bored. 

“You really fight these things when you sleep?” Leliana asked Regan as the group advanced. 

“Not every night, but sometimes.”

“I am glad I am not a mage, then,” Leliana replied solemnly. 

“There’s more reason to be glad than that,” Regan laughed. “Seriously, rage demons are the least of our worries.”

“You and Morrigan are very strong,” Leliana continued. “I have a newfound respect for mages.”

“Really? That’s your takeaway? Usually it’s more like ‘ahhhh you guys seem even more dangerous now if you deal with that. Get back, Maleficar!’”

“Not at all,” Leliana replied, ruining Regan’s attempt to stray away from the earnest way Leliana spoke. “If I have learned anything in these travels, it is that mages are deserving of respect.”

The party moved through more hallways and Regan wasn’t sure how to reply. Regan deflected and mocked, she bitched and raged against a system that would always win. She didn’t know what to do with sympathy or respect.

Eventually the party found Lady Isolde and Bann Teagan. And Conner, Arl Eamon’s son. 

Regan knew something was wrong about him the moment their eyes met, and it didn’t take her long to figure out what. The boy had been possessed by a demon. 

Soon Lady Isolde’s true story unraveled. She hadn’t wanted to send her son to the Circle, she had hired an apostate to teach him to control his magic. But Jowan was payed off by Loghain, who wanted to poison the Arl. Connor, in desperation, had fallen for a demon’s tricks. 

It wasn’t the conclusion Regan had wanted, all it did was make her heart hurt. Whatever else Lady Isolde had done to Alistair, she was better than Regan’s own mother. All she had wanted was to keep her son. It wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t evil.

This was why people said the Circles were necessary, to teach mage children to stay away from demons. Those people were wrong. If the Circle wasn’t a prison, Lady Isolde wouldn’t have kept her son from it in the first place. This was the chantry’s doing, as far as Regan was concerned. 

“Surely there must be something you can do!” Lady Isolde begged. 

A knot formed in Regan’s gut. There was no curing possession. 

“I-I’m sorry” Regan said, looking into Isolde’s tearful eyes. “There’s...there’s no way to stop the demon except-“

“No!” Isolde protested. “I will not allow you to kill my son! You will find another way!”

“There is no other way,” Morrigan said, not half as patient as Regan was being. “Unless we kill the demon inside the Fade, we cannot undo this.”

“Then kill it!” Isolde yelled. “Use your magic to kill the demon and save my son!”

“To enter the Fade we would need buckets of Lyrium,” Regan explained. “We don’t have the kind of time-or even the means-to get that.”

“I don’t care, you will not kill my son! I won’t let you!”

“Lady Isolde, we don’t have a choice,” Regan repeated, hating every word. “Your son is already gone. He’s a prisoner in his own body.”

Isolde was about to yell something back at Regan when another voice joined the fray. 

“I know how we can get into the Fade!” 

Everyone turned, seeing Jowan. 

Lady Isolde screamed, pointing wildly. “You! How did you get out? Get him!”

Lady Isolde looked expectantly at Regan and the others. Alistair then looked at Regan for some kind of orders. 

“Let him speak,” Regan decided. What Jowan said was a spark of hope. A small one, but Regan would do almost anything not to kill this innocent child. This child who’s biggest crime was being scared and alone.

“You don’t need Lyrium to enter the Fade,” Jowan continued to explain. “You can use blood instead.”

Bann Tegan looked outraged. “Maleificar!” He yelled. “We won’t listen to your evil ways, we won’t use blood magic!”

“Wait!” Lady Isolde pushed past Bann Tegan. “How much blood? Please, tell me how to help my child!”

“Lady,” Bann Tegan gasped, “surely you are not about to condone the use of blood magic-“

“I do not care!” Shrieked Isolde. “I will do whatever it takes to save Conner! I do not care and you will not stop me!” Tears streamed down her desperate face.

“The amount of blood we need would require a sacrifice,” Jowan explained.

“So someone has to die to save Conner,” Regan said. Jowan nodded. 

“Then this is out of the question!” Bann Tegan exclaimed. 

“Use me,” said Lady Isolde. 

Shocked, all eyes were on her. 

“Use my blood. I will die to save Conner. Please, one of you use my blood to fight this demon and save my son.”

Bann Tegan looked aghast, but didn’t say anything else. 

“No,” said Alistair, “no, we’re not sacrificing someone using blood magic! It’s - it’s wrong!”

The world swam in front of Regan for a moment. 

Of course. 

Of course. 

Here it is Regan, the mask dropped. 

Templar. 

“I don’t see how this is your decision!” Regan tried not to yell at Alistair. 

“I don’t see how you’re supporting blood magic!” He shot back. 

“I’m not supporting blood magic, I’m saying it’s Isolde’s choice if she sacrifices herself to save her son! How could you take that from her? Do you want the kid to die?”

“I want my fellow Warden not to be dealing with blood mages!”

“Well tough luck then!” Regan screamed. “I say if Isolde wants to, we do the ritual. It’s her right to save her son. I’m not taking that away from her, I don’t want to kill a child!”

“But it’s blood magic!”

“Oh fuck you,” Regan scoffed. Then quieter. “I can’t believe I thought you were different. I was so stupid.”

Regan turned away, trying not to shed angry tears of her own. 

“Jowan,” she said without looking, “do the ritual. I’m going into the Fade and saving Conner.”

~~~~~~~~

Regan barely felt anything as she stormed through the Fade, destroying any lesser demons in her way. Her mind was clouded in anger, in frustration. 

In betrayal. In the stupidest betrayal she had ever felt. 

_You’re an idiot, Regan_ , she told herself as she electrocuted a small rage demon. She barely even heard its roar of defeat. 

_“Ex Templar.” Maker, I’m so stupid._

There was no such thing. If only Regan had waited a little longer and Alistair would have shown his true colors. But no, Regan let herself hope. She let herself feel for a Templar. She was almost as stupid as Jowan. 

Alistair would rather a child die, would rather kill a child, then let someone else use blood magic to save a child. This wasn’t a deal with a demon, this was using blood magic as a tool. Jowan had already become a blood mage, was it really so bad to allow him to use that magic to save a child’s life? 

Would Alistair really take away a mother’s choice to save her son just because blood magic was involved? This was no one's business but Isolde’s and Isolde had made her choice. But Alistair would rather take his sword of mercy and run it through an innocent boy. 

Coward. Bloody coward. Stupid, chantry brainwashed coward. 

He and Regan were not fellow Wardens, they were a Templar and a mage. They would always be a templar and a mage. 

~~~~~~

After the demon was killed, Regan blinked awake slowly. She was lying on the floor, something cushioning her head. Looking to the side, she saw Leliana sitting. Leliana gave her a relieved smile and announced to the room that she was awake. 

Had Leliana really been waiting by her side for her to wake up? This was much nicer than her Harrowing, when the first face she had seen was Jowan and it was likely a Templar moved her unconscious body. 

_Hopefully a Templar didn’t move it again,_ Regan thought, eyeing Alistair suspiciously. He was leaning against a wall, looking upset and pointedly looking away from everyone else. Bastard. 

Regan sat up slowly, and in doing so noticed someone had moved Isolde’s body. That was probably a good thing, as Conner was also coming back into awareness. 

Jowan was nowhere to be seen, probably taken back to the dungeon.

Bann Teagan began issuing orders to guards to send word to the Circle. 

Regan’s heart ached, hating that this is how it had to end. She had defeated a demon, all for a motherless boy to be taken to the Circle. Well, at least he was alive. 

Soon the party were ushered to the side of the large room to discuss their next move with Bann Teagan. While Redcliff was saved, the Wardens still had no allies if Arl Eamon was comatose. 

Bann Teagan’s suggestion seemed crazy at first, until he mentioned that a man named Brother Genitivi had actually made progress searching for the so-called Sacred Ashes. 

The party was going to stay at the castle for one night and head out in the morning in search of a legend as their last ditch effort to save Arl Eamon. 

Regan retreated to her room for the night quickly, avoiding the concerned glances from Leliana. It was Morrigan, however, that knocked on her door late in the night.

“What is it?” Regan asked, already in her sleep clothes. 

Morrigan let herself in and took a seat at a desk. Regan sat on the bed. 

“I simply wanted to congratulate you on your successful journey into the Fade. And to tell you I believe you made the wise choice.”

“I know I made the right choice.”

“Good, because it would seem someone does not.”

“Alistair.”

“Yes, that one. I did not want his poor judgement to make you doubt your leadership skills. You made the right call. There is no reason to avoid a solution just because blood magic is involved. All magic can be dangerous, as all magic can be useful.”

“You’d have been beaten for saying that in the Circle.”

“Which is why you couldn’t say it aloud, until now.”

“No, I said it aloud a few times. Someone beat me.”

Morrigan did not look on Regan with pity, which Regan found she appreciated. 

“You were right about Alistair,” Regan told Morrigan. 

“I often am,” Morrigan replied with a chuckle. 

This made Regan laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head. Remember, I’m the fearless leader.”

Morrigan gave her a friendly grin. Regan liked joking around with Morrigan, if you could call their odd conversations and playful arguments joking. Many nights Regan would go to find Morrigan’s odd little camp and the two would talk late into the night. Morrigan told stories about her childhood, Regan mostly asked more questions. Sometimes Regan also offered a story about some mischief she got up to in the Circle and how much trouble a got in. Sometimes they even talked about the Fade and about magic. 

“Do not worry too much about Alistair,” Morrigan told Regan after a moment. “His opinions are ill-formed and ignorant. He will only slow us down.”

“I know that now, don’t worry.”

Regan laughed about it, made a few more jokes at Alistair’s expense, but under it all she just felt drained.

The next day Regan barely talked to anyone except to make plans. Genitivi was last seen in Denerim. 

Fuck.

It took Regan a few minutes to notice that everyone around the table was staring at her and that she had frowned deeply at the mention of the city.

“It’s nothing,” Regan told them. “Just...never mind.”

Luckily no one pressed Regan on her reaction. The travel plans were sorted out, all of their supplies was restocked. The only item they were still a bit short on was Lyrium potions, Regan was surprised the castle had any of. Regan also tried to get Morrigan and Leliana to put on some leather armor, or light plate like Regan was wearing. Morrigan refused, but Leliana reluctantly traded in her chantry robes. _Good_ , thought Regan, they were starting to get really fucked up and they did not protect her at all. 

Regan also looked around one of the guard training rooms for a pair of practice swords to take. She didn't like useless she became when out of mana, and didn’t want Alistair to be the only person in the party capable of fighting on the front line. Although learning to fight with a sword would require someone to teach her, and she sure as shit wasn’t asking Alistair. The two of them hadn’t exchanged a word with one another since yesterday’s shouting match. 

Regan took the swords anyway, deciding she would ask Sten.

On the way out of Redcliff they were thanked profusely by townspeople, which Regan wasn’t sure how to deal with. Most of the attention was on Alistair, who people assumed was the leader, but Regan got her fair share of thanks. The walk back to the party camp was long and awkward, and the only one who tried to alleviate that awkwardness was Leliana. She told them stories about Denerim, which did not do anything for the group atmosphere. Eventually even Leliana stopped trying. 

Camp was right where they left it, with the strange Dwarven merchants off to one side and Sten sitting on the same rock Regan had left him on. 

_Wonder if he moved at all_ , Regan thought to herself and tried not to laugh.

“Have you secured an alliance with this man you sought?” Sten asked.

“Not yet, he’s kinda dying. We’re looking for some legendary ashes to save him.”

Sten stared at Regan for a moment. “This sounds foolish. This man is dying, move on to other prospects.”

“We do have a lead, so it’s not a complete wild goose chance. Also, we need nobility on our side if we ever want to mobilize an army.”

“You humans rely on these nobles too much.”

“I’m an elf, buddy.” 

Sten didn’t reply. Regan counted that as a victory. 

“I did want to ask you something,” Regan said. Sten did not say anything, but was clearly waiting for her to continue.

“Can you teach me to use a sword?”

“Why? You have your magic.”

“Because I don’t wanna be useless when I run out of mana. You know about mana, right?”

“I am not an Arvaarad.”

“I have no idea what that is. Anyway, mana is what I use to cast spells. When I run out I can’t cast anything powerful anymore.”

Sten nodded. 

“So, will you teach me?”

“Yes. To improve one’s skill in battle is a worthwhile pursuit.”

“Great!”

Sten sat up from his rock. “We begin now.”

Startled but excited, Regan followed Sten to a clearing near camp with the practice swords.

After only 20 minutes Regan had been knocked on her ass at least five times. Sten hit like a bronto and was not a patient teacher. Even when Regan did manage to block his attacks the force sent her stumbling back. 

“Ow!” Regan yelled as Sten whacked her side with the wooden sword. “Okay, okay, enough sword lessons for now. I have to be able to move tomorrow. You Qunari don’t mess around.”

“No, we do not. And if I may inquire, why have you come to me for this training and not the other Warden?”

“Oh. He and I had a...big disagreement. We had to have a mage use some dangerous magic to save a child’s life, Alistair didn’t want to.”

“I do not see why saving a child’s life was necessary for the mission.”

Regan sighed. “I just didn’t want to kill a child. The spell required someone’s sacrifice, so his mother offered herself. I wanted to let her have the choice to save her son.”

“This is all foolish. In the Qun, there are no mothers.”

“...I don’t have time to unpack that,” Regan muttered to herself. 

“Well,” she replied to Sten, “humans and elves do. I made the decision to let the mother sacrifice herself and Alistair didn’t want to because it involved blood magic.”

Sten’s expression did not change. 

“Were I there with you, I would have not wanted to take such a risk for the sake of one child. However, you are the leader and it is your call to make. Alistair should not be upset with you for making a decision.”

“I’m not technically the leader, he has just as much say in what we do. He just...doesn’t like deciding things.”

“Yes, he is an unfit leader. This is why you are the leader, and he should defer to your judgement.”

“So you disagree with my decision but you’d just...let me choose and not complain?”

“Yes.”

“...alright. Always good talking with you, Sten.”

Sten grunted in reply and then left. Regan got a weird sneaking suspicion that they had gotten...closer?

The night in Regan and Leliana’s tent was quiet. Regan figured she needed to address the elephant in the room.

“So, blood magic.”

Leliana didn’t say anything. Regan continued. 

“Have you changed your mind on mages yet?”

“No, I have not,” she replied. “While I am disturbed by the magic used in that castle, I cannot say I wished the boy were dead. You made a difficult decision.”

“It was pretty easy for me,” Regan admitted. “Yeah, I didn’t want to kill Lady Isolde, but...killing a kid just seemed wrong. He didn’t do anything.”

“Do you think he will be okay in the Circle?” Leliana asked as she pulled up her covers.

“I have no idea. Some mages do, some get turned tranquil before they can take their Harrowing. No one does good at the Circle, you only survive.”

Leliana nodded like she understood. Maybe she did, Regan knew nothing of her past. 

“I think you and Alistair should talk,” Leliana added. 

Regan groaned. “There’s nothing to talk about. He’s mad because I wanted to save a child’s life. He hates blood magic more than he loves saving lives, and I don’t know what to do with that. No offense to you, but that’s what the chantry does to people it gets its claws into.”

“None taken. As I have told you, I follow the Maker not the chantry. While my experiences with the chantry have been nothing but positive, I am too much of a story teller to believe mine is the only perspective. But I do not think you are giving Alistair enough credit. He is a good man.”

“Maybe,” Regan muttered. “But he’s a Templar first. They all are.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The icy silence between Regan and Alistair did little to help ease the stress of traveling to Denerim. 

_Will it still look the same? What will have changed? Does my..._

_Stop it, Regan._

She was not going to think about them, because she would not be seeing them. They would go to Denerim, get information, and leave. It was unlikely that this would take the party anywhere near the alianage. But still, to be so close...

_I wonder if Flynn and Orla grew up okay? Do any of them even think of me anymore?_

Did the Suranas just move on? Did they mourn the loss of one of their family, or did they want to forget the stain of magic? 

But none of it mattered, because Regan would not be seeing them. She was a Surana in name only, the rest had been taken from her at Kinloch Hold. The Suranas in Denerim were a world away from Regan. They shared a name. That was it. 

What did end up distracting Regan from her own thoughts was the group of darkspawn the party ran into when passing a farm. Immediately Regan motioned for Bohdan and Sandal to stay back. Sten and Alistair moved to the front, and Leliana backed up to draw an arrow. 

The fight began. Ice gathered around Regan’s staff and shot at the biggest looking hurlock. The others followed her lead in attacking that one first. While it was flanked by Sten and Alistair, Leliana began picking off other darkspawn archers that surrounded the battlefield. 

Morrigan and Regan focused on the hurlock, firing at it when it was too distracted to fight back. 

All in all, it was a good fight. While some of the darkspawn had reached Regan and Morrigan, the two had enough mana to swiftly retaliate. Leliana was completely untouched, but Sten and Alistair were a different story. 

Luckily Sten didn’t have any bleeding wounds, but he had been slammed into the ground at one point had the wind knocked out of him. Alistair was bleeding from his abdomen where a strike had slipped through the gaps in his armor.

Regan wished she was better at healing magic, feeling guilty watching Alistair apply a poultice. He was making a real muck of it, so Regan sighed and stomped over. 

Alistair looked up at her from where he was sitting and said nothing. 

“I know we’re not talking or whatever, but you’re fucking up that poultice so bad it’s gonna somehow hurt you. Let me help.”

Alistair nodded in agreement. Turns out it’s much easier to apply a poultice to someone else, and also much easier when you aren’t actively bleeding. Who would have thought.

Regan was completely silent as she finished tying off the bandages. Then, she touched her hand to the area and tried to cast a healing spell. It may have worked? Her hand glowed with magic and Alistair’s expression did change. 

Regan didn’t feel like sticking around to find out how effective the spell had been. She had always been better at breaking things than fixing them. 

After many days of travel the group could see Denerim in the distance. 

Regan had been training with Sten every night at camp and she was starting to feel sore all over. After training Regan always tried to pry more information about the Qunari out of him, but he was a man of few words. Strangely, however, Sten did not seem all that bothered. 

Regan was sitting by the fire with Leliana when Sten marched over towards her. 

“Are we going to train tonight?” He asked. This was the first time he had brought it up himself. 

“Sure, but go easy on me will you? My whole body hurts.”

“I will not.”

Regan laughed but got up and joined him anyway. This time she actually countered most of his attacks, which made her proud for all of two seconds before he decided to stop going so easy on her. 

“Do you do much teaching?” Regan asked. “Because you’re a harsh teacher.”

“I do not.”

“Not even training other soldiers?”

“That is not my role.”

This was a good opening for a question Regan had been mulling over. 

“You really don’t mind all that pre-determined role stuff? You don’t wish for freedom to do what you want?”

“That would be irresponsible.”

“You deserve a choice in the life you lead,” Regan replied. 

“I do not see why. Everything has its place and its purpose.”

“Sounds stifling, if you ask me. I’ve never been much good at sticking to any purpose someone gave me.”

“Evidently not. You are bas saarabas, yet you lead this group.”

“I’m what now?”

“A mage.”

“Oh.” Regan’s mood sank. “You’ve got a problem with that now, after all this time?”

“I did not say that.” 

“But I thought everything had its place?” Regan inquired, teasing him slightly.

“You bas confuse me. Nothing in your society is as it should be.”

Sten was silent for a moment, but looked like he wanted to say something. Then, he said the last thing Regan expected to hear.

“Are you a man?”

“What? A man? No, I’m a woman. I’m also an elf, if you haven’t noticed.”

“No,” Sten said, frustrated, “you are clearly an elf. I am not confused about that. I am confused by you being a woman.”

“...why?”

Where the fuck was this going?

“You are the leader, a task given to men.”

“Oh Maker,” Regan exclaimed, “you literally just said I broke every expectation you had, why is me being a woman so surprising?”

“Woman do not lead in battle.”

“Well clearly they do, because I am a woman!”

“Yet you are our leader.”

“Yup. A leader and a woman. Also an elf.”

“I know you are an elf!” Sten gestured wildly in frustration. “You are clearly an elf. But not only are you a saarabas without an arvaarad, you are a woman who commands.”

Regan actually laughed.

“Unless...” Sten muttered. “Alistair is your arvaarad? I believe your Templars serve a similar function.”

“Fuck no! You’re out of order if you think Alistair controls anything about me. Whatever the fuck an arvaarad is, I don’t have or need one.”

Regan was actually starting to get annoyed now. 

“If you think mages have to be led around on leashes then you clearly don’t want to follow me. And if that’s a the case, you should just go.”

“That is not the case.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I was confused.”

“Clearly,” Regan rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair. “...anyway, here in the rest of the world, women can be commanders.”

“But mages cannot, outside of Tevinter.”

“Correct.”

“Then you are still an anomaly, commander.”

...was that a compliment? Regan decided to take it as one. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The party made camp outside of Denerim, leaving Sten behind again. The man did not seem to mind, and he drew a lot of attention. The plan for Denerim was to under no circumstances mention they were Gray Wardens and to get the information as quickly as possible. 

Their task was already made difficult by the wanted posters with their faces. Admittedly, the drawings were bad, but the general consensus was to be on the look out for a male warrior and a female elf with a mage’s staff. 

In order to avoid being recognized, Regan and Alistair agreed to split up the group. Regan went with Morrigan, Alistair with Leliana. While splitting the party with the two mages in one party was stupid, Alistair was not keen on splitting up with Morrigan. 

Regan and Morrigan also went to find a store that specialized in magic items, hoping to purchase Lyrium potions. Regan hated the store, seeing the way the Tranquil moved about like puppets. But the store did have the potions. At least there was that.

What next caught Regan’s attention was the gate to the alienage, which was unfortunately within sight of The Wonders of Thedas. 

Apart from the unease that rolled inside Regan at the proximity to her old home, she noticed something weird. There was a guard at the door.

Checking out the gate was probably a bad idea, which is probably why Regan found herself drawn over to investigate. She really didn’t want to go near the alienage, but...that’s where her feet took her. 

The large gate was closed. 

“Why are you standing here?” Regan asked the man. 

“I am guarding the entrance, my lady. There is much unrest in the alienage and it is a danger to the public.”

Unrest? 

“Can I go in? I used to live there.”

“No, I am afraid not. It is much too dangerous and the situation must be contained.”

“What situation?”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

Regan rolled her eyes. “Some Shem nonsense, obviously.”

“Do not take that tone with me!” The guard replied haughtily. “If you no longer reside within, then it is none of your business what happens beyond these gates. Carry on.”

Regan had a bad feeling about this. However, approaching the guard was already a risk. She shouldn’t stick around long enough for the guard to remember those wanted posters. Regan gave the guard one last angry look and left. 

“You used to live in that slum?” Morrigan asked as the pair walked away. 

Regan answered her, wary. “Yes. Before I was taken to the Circle.”

“Does it worry you, what might be happening beyond those walls?”

“Of course it worries me,” Regan replied. “But it shouldn’t. I don’t have anything to do with that place anymore.”

“But it was your home. How curious.”

“I don’t have a home.”


	7. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence time because I need Regan to be an arcane warrior a little earlier than the Dalish quest.

A small elven girl kicked and screamed as men in armor carried her away. She had shot lightning in every direction she could see and she had ran, but they had caught her in the end. Now her hands were cuffed in front of her and her mana had been nullified. 

It had started as a normal day. The girl had gone about her day in the streets, making mischief with other children. Eventually a procession of guards had walked through, arresting a man who had probably done nothing wrong. One of the children, the man’s younger brother, had ran over and started yelling at the guards. The guard shoved the child to the ground, and Regan ran over and yelled. Whatever she had yelled, the guard didn’t like it. He slapped her across the face, and was swiftly knocked away by the small girl’s first time casting Mind Blast. 

The Templars were called immediately. Regan hadn’t meant to cast, she had just been in pain and been frightened. It had just happened.

Maybe if Regan had just run away from the procession of guards, it all could have been different.

“But that’s not you,” came a familiar voice. Regan was now an adult again, standing in the fade.

The voice continued. “What you saw compelled you to act. You’ve never been good at staying out of trouble, at knowing what’s good for you.”

Regan looked around, trying to find the...whoever was talking. 

“You were here the other night,” Regan said to the void around her.

“I am here more than you realize.”

“Care to show yourself, then?” Regan joked, but could feel fear creeping in. Two seconds passed, and then-

~~~~~~~~~~

Regan woke with a start, scrambling in her bedroll. She sat up quickly, looking around her. 

_Damn it, I was about to see the stupid demon._

If some pride demon was going to hound her sleep, it should at least face her. Coward. 

If only Regan could see it, she could kill it. Having a demon frequent your dreams wasn’t good. Even in her sleep, Regan could not let her guard down. 

Regan exited her tent into the misty campsite. After discovering where Genitivi had been headed, the group had made their way to the small village of Haven. Regan still couldn’t help but think of this as a wild goose chase. At least Leliana and Alistair seemed to be hopeful about this urn existing. 

The air was chilly around Regan at the empty campsite. It was early enough that everyone else was still asleep, but Regan knew there was no hope in sleeping after her dream. Regan did not have to sit in silence alone for long, as Sten was an early riser. 

“Up for some hitting me with wooden swords?” Regan asked. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts right now. 

Sten agreed to train with her. The exercise helped counter the cold weather of the mountain, which was another bonus. The rest of the group slowly emerged from their tents, and Leliana began preparing breakfast. 

Morrigan stayed in her own area, thankfully wearing a fur coat now. Regan had no idea how the woman wasn’t freezing throughout their travels. Alistair was wondering the camp, coming suspiciously close to where Sten and Regan were still sparring. After the match, Sten had Regan going over drills involving proper posture and handling of the sword, as well as different kinds of strikes. Regan was very proud of her progress thus far.

When they were finished, Regan was tired in a pleasant sort of way. Her muscles ached, but she felt accomplished. 

“You know,” came another voice, “one day someone’s going to ask why you fight like a Qunari.” Alistair. 

“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” Regan responded with a flat expression. “I’m sure they’ll still be getting over the shock of a mage pulling a sword.”

“Her martial prowess will only benefit from Qunari techniques,” Sten added confidently. And maybe proudly?

“What, like our old Ferelden fighting isn’t good enough?” Alistair asked with a good natured smile. There was some tension behind his words.

“It is inferior,” Sten replied. 

“And I’d rather fight like a Qunari than fight like a Templar,” Regan added with a pointed look. 

_There, that’s why I didn’t ask you for help._ Regan hoped her message came across. _I’m more fond of the murderous Qunari than you right now._

Alistair made some excuse and left. Good. Ugh, this was going to be a long Blight. 

Breakfast was supremely awkward, silent except for Leliana’s occasional story. Morrigan eyed the obvious tension between Alistair and Regan like she was watching a particularly interesting play. 

~~~~~~

Leliana, Alistair, Morrigan and Regan made the journey into the small mountain village. It was not a warm welcome. Villagers eyed them with suspicion, some even warned them to go back. But nevertheless the group made their way further into town. 

Regan had just seen a larger building up ahead when she heard a cry of battle. She turned in time to see four men rushing the group, weapons drawn. 

The party responded quickly, and the men were no match for them. Alistair bashed one with his shield, Leliana stabbed one in the back, Regan electrocuted one, and Morrigan frightened one so bad that he couldn’t hit anyone. That last man was then knocked unconscious by the pommel of Alistair’s sword.

“Cute attempt,” Regan mused to herself.

“I’m starting to worry we won’t find this Genitivi fellow alive,” said Alistair. 

“Then this will all have been a waste of time,” Morrigan added, “As I have known all along. Tragic.”

“We’re talking about a man’s life!” Alistair retorted. Morrigan didn’t seem convinced. 

Not wanting to stick around in the open any longer, Regan led the group to the chantry building she had seen in the distance. The wooden doors creaked as she pushed them open, and the inside didn’t do much to convince Regan this was safe. 

The chantry was set up with similar iconography to most Andrastian places of faith, but something was...off. Everything was clearly Andrastian in origin but Regan knew it wasn’t right. Leliana saw it too, frowning as the group walked in. 

There was a robed older man at the front of the building, speaking to a group of villagers. The speech stopped as soon as Regan’s group entered. Silently they walked past the pews and to the old man. Something Regan also took note of was that the walking stick the man carried looked distinctly like a staff. 

“We don’t mean any harm,” Regan told the group. “We’re just here looking for a man named Genitivi.”

The old man introduced himself as Eirick, a so called “revered father.” This was only getting weirder. This chantry was led by a man and likely a mage. 

Eirick also didn’t like outsiders, he made that perfectly clear. This village had a different version of the chantry, which was obvious. As the conversation went on, Regan could feel the atmosphere in the room changing. The tension was thick, and the villagers were slowly backing away from the group as Eirick spoke. They were readying themselves for a fight. 

“Let’s cut the pleasantries,” Regan interrupted. “You don’t want us here, that much is clear. How about we just be on our way-“

Regan had gestured at the door, and saw two men blocking it with drawn swords.

“Well, then,” said Regan, “that’s awkward.” A second later, every villager rushed the group. 

The party was at a clear disadvantage. They were outnumbered, in an enclosed space, and surrounded.

Alistair let out a battle cry and swung at one of the villagers, making a clear show of his power. This distracted enough villagers for Regan and Morrigan to slip out of the circle of men, Leliana having no trouble at all. Leliana, in fact, was suddenly behind one of the villagers and stabbed her in the back. 

Morrigan called a small amount of electricity to her hand, looking at Regan questioningly. Regan nodded, and the two shot twin lightning bolts at the villagers. Eirick was casting something, but Regan didn’t let him finish and cast a simple bolt of magic at the man. He recoiled and looked on Regan with anger, casting a much simpler spell back. Regan managed to dodge, but Morrigan wasn’t as lucky. She yelled in pain and stumbled, but this only seemed to make her more mad. 

Regan and Morrigan then deal with more villagers, ones that Regan had thought went down already. Alistair couldn’t keep them all distracted, and a few got hits on Regan. She liked wearing armor a lot. 

Armor didn’t help, however, when one of the villagers bodily grabbed Regan and threw her to the ground. Regan fell with a crash of metal, quickly bringing up her staff to block the man now trying to stab her with a dagger. The two struggled, Regan trying and failing to throw him off. Luckily for her, Leliana took notice and kicked the man in the head. He toppled to the side and Regan got to her feet. 

Looking around, the fight didn’t look like it had progressed as much as it should have. Not a single villager had fallen, which didn’t seem right. Then Regan noticed Eirick casting at the edge of the fight, and figured it out. This man was a talented healer. 

“Get Eirick!” Regan yelled, bringing up her staff to cast Winter’s Grasp. “He’s healing them!”

Morrigan cast some kind of fear spell, but it didn’t take hold. The man was powerful, and the villagers were still attacking. 

The fight went on like that, with the party only able to take down a few of the villagers because of Eirick’s healing. Regan was trying her best to attack Eirick, but she had to watch out for the villagers too. 

After knocking out a villager with a lightning spell, Regan looked up and saw Eirick preparing something big.

But the spell would take time, so Regan gathered up her mana for a spirit bolt and-

The wind was knocked out of her as her mana was pulled away. The invisible pressure reverberated around Regan, sending her to one knee. Then something hit her over the head and she fell sideways onto the wood floor. 

Someone yelled in the distance, cursing. It was Alistair. Then Morrigan yelled something angrily, but Regan couldn’t focus on her words. Her head swam, the whole world swaying as she tried to get up. _One of these maker-damned cultists is a Templar, what the fuck?_

She felt weak, the after effects of the divine smite making her whole body feel like lead. Regan was kicked again, and again fell to the floor. 

More shouting, and then more shouting. Regan may have blacked out for a moment, she couldn’t tell. Someone dragged her limp body away, speaking to her as they went. Leliana.

Eventually the sounds of battle stopped, and there was a moment of silence. Then a raised voice again. Morrigan. 

Someone was shaking Regan by the shoulders, and Regan opened her eyes and saw Leliana. 

“Regan, get up. You need to drink a health position, you likely hurt your head quite badly.”

“Not me who hurt it,” Regan mumbled, managing with Leliana’s help to sit up and lean against a wall. 

Leliana held out a vial of health potion, helping Regan hold it as she brought it too her lips. The room was still swaying slightly. 

The floor was littered with bodies. 

“Is she alright?” Alistair asked nervously, kneeling close by. He looked pale and shocked. 

“Yeah ‘m fine,” Regan muttered, waiting for everything to feel normal again. She could feel the potion working, the pressure in her head waning slightly.

“No thanks to you, you daft idiot!” Morrigan spat at Alistair. 

What? Why did Alastair look so hurt, so guilty, it wasn’t his-

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

“You...you smited me,” Regan realized, feeling her own anger rise through the fog of pain. 

“I was trying to get Eirick!” Alistair pleaded. “I didn’t realize you were in range, I swear!”

“Motherfucker,” Regan groaned out, trying her best to look mad and not just drunk. She scrubbed a hand across her face, annoyed beyond belief. 

“We were in an enclosed space, Alistair! How would I not be in range?”

“I just-I, I thought the radius was smaller.”

“Didn’t they teach you that in Templar school?”

“There was more focus on how far it could reach, not about...how far it could reach? Wait, that didn’t make sense. Uh, it’s more about how much you can hit, not worrying about hitting someone.”

Regan rolled her eyes. “They never even considered you might be fighting with a mage instead of against one.”

“...I suppose not. Maker, Regan, I’m sorry.” And he did look sorry. He looked bloody miserable. 

Regan didn’t know how to respond, and she was tired. And her head hurt. Stupid potion wasn’t working fast enough. 

“What are we going to do now that we’ve just killed their leader?” Alistair asked the group. 

No one had an answer. Maker, did Regan have to do everything around here? 

“We find Genitivi and get out of here fast. Let’s hide the bodies in another room, also someone search Eirick’s body. I’m...gonna stay here for a second.”

The orders were swiftly followed while Regan leaned against the wall and tried to get her bearings. Divine smites hurt like a bitch, and the feeling of having no mana at all was...weird. Empty.

_Can’t fucking believe Alistair did that._

“It’s some kind of back room!” Leliana exclaimed from across the chantry. “Or at least a door to one. This is unlike any lock I’ve ever seen.”

Leliana banged on the door, and a man’s muffled voice answered. 

“We’re going to rescue you, don’t worry!” Leliana called back. 

“And how are we doing that again?” Asked Morrigan. 

“I don’t know,” Leliana replied, “but we must reassure whoever is in there. We will certainly find a way.”

“Did the Maker tell you that too?” Morrigan mocked. 

“Fighting isn’t going to help!” Said Alistair. 

“I don’t think you have a leg to stand on when it comes to help,” Morrigan replied easily. “Any more helping and you’ll help us to death.”

“Andraste’s ass, you two!” Regan yelled. “Stop bickering and open the door!”

All three of them replied with some variation of “we don’t know how.”

Then...

“Wait!” Alistair exclaimed from where he was searching Eirick’s body. “This amulet thingie! It looks like the weird lock!”

“That was very helpful, Alistair,” Leliana told him as she took the amulet and used it to unlock the back door. She was too kind, but what else was new?

Regan got up from her spot by the wall and went to the back room where Leliana was untying a man. Turns out it was Genitivi! Nice. 

Regan heard the creaking of the old doors. Someone was coming in. 

“Close the room!” Regan whispered urgently at Morrigan. “We’ll hide in here!”

“But the bodies are out there!” Alistair whispered back. “They’ll find them eventually!”

“That’s a then problem! Close the door!”

Morrigan did so, sealing the group and the frightened Genitivi inside the secret room. Even if the cultists did find the bodies, they wouldn’t be able to get into the room without the amulet. Unless they had another amulet. Shit.

“Okay okay okay” Regan muttered to herself as she looked around the room. Nothing useful. Luckily they were all armed, but so far all the cultists they had encountered had been too. 

Voices could be heard outside, but they didn’t sound alarmed yet. 

“Here’s the plan,” Regan quietly told the group. “We’re going to open the door just a bit and I’m going to start casting a lightning storm. If they see us, Alistair and Leliana run out and attack. Keep them in the center of the room so I can zap them, but as soon as I yell run you’ve gotta run or you’ll get zapped too. Morrigan, do your weird entropy magic and frighten them so it’ll be harder for them to realize what’s going on.”

“If they don’t notice what’s happening, we just wait for the lightning to get them and then we attack. After that...just fight.”

The group gave her quizzical looks.

“Ya know,” Regan joked as she tried not to show her nerves, “the famed Gray Warden battle strategy.”

Alistair smiled, at least. Bastard. Why him, Regan was not trying to have a bonding moment here. She was still mad. 

Regan opened the door a fraction, and luckily it didn’t creak. The people were looking a little confused by Eirick’s absence, but they hadn’t found the bodies yet. Regan raised her staff and began to cast. 

As soon as the lightning started, Morrigan cast her spell. The cultists screamed but seemed frozen in place by the disorientation of the spell. This meant they took a few critical seconds longer to get out of the lightning storm. 

One cultist saw Regan in the doorway once he had ran to safety. He pointed and yelled, but none of the cultists could do anything without running back through the storm.

Regan grinned at them, stuck out her tongue, and flipped her middle finger. 

When the storm ended, Alistair and Leliana charged the group, the two mages on their heels. This battle was relatively easy due to the lack of an enemy mage, and Regan almost enjoyed herself. Maaayyyybe it was concerning that she was starting to get satisfaction from deadly combat, but Regan would examine that later. Now was time for the Gray Warden Battle Strategy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The urn was real. The urn was fucking real. The urn was real and they had to fight weird ghost things to get it. What. The. Fuck.

Regan could hardly believe what had happened as the party walked back from the Temple of Sacred Ashes. 

Regan was actually holding a pouch of Andraste’s ashes. For real.

When the group got back to the campsite, Regan held up the pouch proudly.

“You found them?” Sten asked with such a shocked expression that Regan laughed.

“Yup,” she told him, “the ashes were fucking real.”

Sten muttered something in his language, probably profanity if the Qun even had those words.

While Regan was triumphant, she had a lot to think about after seeing the inside of the Temple. She wandered away to the woods and sat on the ground against a tree. 

First things first, there was the matter of the phylactery she had found, the one with the spirit of a long-dead elf tied to it. It had been in a side room of the temple, covered in dust. It was in the form of a gem, and Regan had first picked it up to sell later, but then she had heard the voice within. The elf had offered to teach her old magic ways, but in the moment she had decided she didn’t have time to consider the risks so she just pocketed the gem.

Regan took the gem out of her pack and considered it. She would definitely destroy the item and release the elf from his prison, but there was the matter of taking up his offer. Maybe the elf was not an elf and in fact a demon. Maybe allowing him to access her mind would be suicide. Maybe even destroying the gem would release the demon?

_Well,_ Regan reasoned, _I can fight one demon. So if I destroy it and it does summon a demon I can handle myself._

But should she allow him to teach her this strange magic he spoke of? That sounded a little bit like blood magic, but Regan also hadn’t ever heard of a demon spinning a story this unbelievable. Demons usually tried to worm their way in with a story that made some sense, or used something familiar as a lure.

And why would there be a demon bound in the Temple of Sacred Ashes?

_“Please,”_ Regan heard in her mind. “ _Please make your choice and release me.”_

“How do I know you’re not a demon, hm?” Regan asked out loud. 

_“You only have my word, I am afraid.”_

“Not good enough.” Regan put away the gem. 

The next thing Regan had to think about was the fact that all this Andraste stuff was real. Or at least some of it. Unless this was all the work of old magic she didn’t understand.

Regan never had any reason to not believe in Andraste and the Maker, but she was also never given reason to believe. Her mother had told her of the gods she was raised with, and although Liara Surana no longer believed in the pantheon, Regan had no reason to discount all the elves that did. 

Maxwell Surana had been raised Andrastian, And Liara converted. Regan had been raised Andrastian, but living in the Circle meant always living with a dissonance between what you knew to be true and what Andrastians told you. 

Mages weren’t evil. Regan knew that of herself, she knew it of so many mages around her. Sure, some were evil, but Regan was too elven to not know the evil of regular human Andrastians. Mages weren’t unique in that way. 

Magic came with danger, but magic could also do so much good. Magic could heal, for example. 

How much good could the healers of the Circle do if they weren’t locked away? Regan then laughed to herself, thinking of all the trouble the Templars would save by just letting Anders outside sometimes. 

Regan knew magic wasn’t evil. It was just something that existed in this strange world. Although to be fair to Andraste, she never said magic was evil. Regan would agree that magic should serve man, but how was it serving man to lock it away forever? 

_If Andraste was here now, would she be okay with the Circle of Magi?_

Regan had wondered this many times when she saw mages abused, hurt, when she heard of the suicides. 

Regan had been lucky in the Circle, in many ways. She had never been raped, never even been touched inappropriately.

But the threat was always there in the Circle. There were some meaningful glances, comments about her body. Being Irving’s star pupil also protected her from a lot of things, and Regan would be lying if she hadn’t lain awake wracked with guilt some nights. Of all the elven mages, she was safe. What had Regan done to deserve that safety? She was a brat, she antagonized people on purpose. So many other mages tried their best to follow the rules, to be unassuming, to stay under the radar. 

And even without sexual violence, there was abuse. Regan had been hit more times than she could count. She may have deserved some of it, may have poked the bear a bit. That never stopped her. 

There was one particular Templar who was fond of smiting her because she “looked suspicious,” or he “thought she was about to attack him.” That guy was a bastard, and luckily eventually transferred to Kirkwall. 

Regan shook herself out of the memories. They were useless, she wasn’t in the Circle anymore. She was free. She was free. 

But the point was, was this what the Maker really wanted? Regan had to believe that if the Maker was real, He wouldn’t approve. If the Maker was real and this was His plan, fuck His plan. 

_Just because some of the Andraste story really happened doesn’t mean this is what the Maker wants,_ Regan reminded herself.

Maybe sitting in the woods alone wasn’t a good idea. It made Regan reflect on things, gross.

The sun was setting when Regan got back to camp. Alistair was whistling some tune to himself while he cleaned his armor, Leliana was swaying with the rhythm and making stew for the group over the fire. Regan went to sit next to Leliana, and asked her if she knew any stories about Haven. That would take her mind off of the strange gem and everything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regan awoke to a scream, scrambling out of her bedroll. 

Leliana was also awake now, drawing her daggers. Leliana and Regan left the tent, and around them saw fire. Fire and darkspawn. 

Darkspawn had swarmed the camp, and the trees burned along with some of the other tents. Bohdan and Sandel were hiding under their carts. Sten was trying to fight off a hurlock with his bare hands, and Alistair was scrambling out of his own flaming tent. Morrigan’s sleep clothes were singed, her hair a mess as she shot spells frantically. 

Regan had her staff ready and froze the hurlock fighting Sten, allowing him to rush to their weapons and grab his sword. 

Regan was hit across her back by a genlock with a hammer, sending her to the ground. She shot lightning back, and Leliana stabbed it. 

“Don’t let them bleed on you!” Regan yelled. “You’ll get the Blight!”

She got to her feet and ran to help Alistair fend off an ogre. A fucking ogre was here. Regan shot it with lightning, then blasted it with fire. 

Fire. Wait, why was the surrounding woods on-

Pain seared across Regan’s back and she was thrown forward, barely missing crashing into the ogre. She heard Alistair’s own yell of pain. 

The ogre was still howling from its own burn, allowing Regan to push up on her hands and turn to see what hit her. It was an emissary, and it had just cast fireball. Fuck, Regan couldn’t even properly cast fireball yet!

The clothes on Regan’s back were burned off, her shirt only hanging on by her sleeves. Well, she had bigger problems than her possibly flashings her tits right now. 

Despite the burning pain on her back, Regan stumbled to her feet and shot a spirit bolt at the emissary. 

“Alistair!” She yelled. “Smite it!”

“But-“

“I’ll run! Just smite it!”

Alistair steeled himself, and Regan bolted. Her feet slipped in the dirt as she ran, sending her sliding the rest of the way. As she careened back onto her knees she felt a rush of pressure behind her, giving her the impression she had narrowly avoided the divine smite. 

Regan propped herself up on her staff and attacked the ogre from far away before it could grab Alistair. The emissary looked dazed, disoriented by the smite. 

“Sten, get the ogre!” Regan yelled. 

Every time Regan moved, her back burned. Looking at Alistair more closely she could see a similar burn on the side of his back and on his shoulder. If Alistair could keep fighting, so could Regan. 

Regan managed to take out two hurlocks when she heard a smack and a grunt of pain. She looked around to see Sten motionless at the base of a tree, where the ogre had clearly just thrown him. The ogre advanced on the motionless man, but was stopped by an arrow that lodged itself in its shoulder. Leliana must have retrieved her bow. 

The ogre roared in rage and ran towards where the arrow came from, giving a panicked Regan time to run to Sten. 

_Shit shit shit shit- please be okay, please don’t be dead_

Thank the Maker, Sten was alive. He groaned softly when Regan touched his shoulder. His white hair was stained red from where he hit the tree. Regan gathered the last of her mana and cast a healing spell on the wound, hoping that head wounds really did look worse than they were. This looked really bad. 

She heard Morrigan yell in the distance as she poured amateur healing magic into Sten. 

Once the spell was over, Regan took off towards her tent. There might be at least one Lyrium potion in her pack. 

The tent was on fire, but Regan managed to extract her pack from the wreckage. She rummaged through the pack, coming up with nothing. 

Fuck. No Lyrium, there was no more Lyrium. She could look in Morrigan’s pack, but it was all the way on the other side of camp and she might be out too.

Everything seemed to slow around Regan as she took in their hopeless circumstances. Morrigan was on the ground, casting weak spells at advancing genlocks. Leliana was thrown off the ogre’s back like a leaf, rolling in the grass. Sten was struggling to get up despite his head injury like an idiot. Alistair had taken many injuries due to his lack of armor, and was struggling to fend the ogre off. He needed support, he-

Regan’s hand brushed against something smooth. The gem. It called to her softly, offering its promises of knowledge.

“How quick can I learn this arcane warrior stuff?” Regan asked frantically.

_“It will be instantaneous. Keep in mind I cannot teach you all, you must still train to-“_

“Doesn’t matter, teach me what you can!”

Regan blacked out.


	8. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight continues. Regan and Leliana share a moment.

Regan felt magic explode through her veins, felt the fade crack around her as her mind met with the mind of the ancient elf. Memories of training, of learning to meld magic and strength together. 

Regan bolted to her feet and ran to the weapons cart. She grabbed one of Alistair’s extra swords and swung at an approaching genlock, feeling magic surge through her arms as she took off its head. The sword was lighter than it should be, her swing more powerful than it should be for the amount of training she had completed. 

Regan approached the ogre and a startled Alistair. She let out a yell and ran at the ogre, stabbing it through the gut. It roared in pain and attacked back, but Regan was able to slash its arm. Alistair joined in her attacks, the two of them fighting differently but effectively battling the ogre. 

Hurlocks approached but Regan didn’t care, she spun around and slashed at them. Regan held off the remaining darkspawn and allowed Alistair to stab the ogre through the stomach, spilling its cuts across the ground. 

As Regan dispatched the last darkspawn, the ogre fell with a mighty crash. 

Regan’s breathing was ragged, her whole body surging with energy and magic. Then pain spread across her back and she dropped her sword as she stumbled to her knees. As the rush of battle wore off, Regan began to feel the full extent of her injuries. The minor cuts and the less minor burn took their toll. 

“Regan!” called Leliana. The woman rushed to Regan’s side, bending over to place her hands on Regan’s shoulders.

“Oh, Maker,” she muttered when she saw the burns. “Morrigan,” she called, “get the medicine kit. Alistair and Regan, sit down and rest. I’ll help you apply something for the burns. Are there any health potions left?”

“Give them to Sten,” Regan managed as she leaned heavily on one arm with her legs tucked to one side. “He’s worse off.”

Leliana gave Regan a searching look that Regan had to break away from, but eventually left to go tend to Sten. Her eyes were so full of genuine concern, so earnest and open about how she felt. When faced with the full force of Leliana’s concern, Regan had had no choice but to look away.

Sten drank the health potion as he rested his weight against the same tree that still had his blood on it. Regan was still thankful that the healing spell even worked, she had never cast healing magic under such duress before. 

Leliana returned to Regan’s side quickly, healing kit in hand. She sat behind Regan and got the health poultice ready. “This may hurt a bit,”

“That’s alright,” Regan muttered. 

It did sting when Leliana placed her hands on Regan’s back, but after that the sensation was cooling and almost pleasant. 

And then Regan was very aware that she was sitting there in half a shirt while Leliana rubbed her back. Luckily she was too tired to be embarrassed. 

The fires still burned around them but were not spreading. If Regan had any mana left she would be helping Morrigan conjure water to put them out. 

“You were incredible in that fight,” Leliana told her.

“It wasn’t all me,” Regan had to admit. “Remember that gem with the elf? I took his offer and he showed me how to use magic like that.”

“That was magic? I did not see any magic.”

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” said Regan. “The magic became part of my body in a way that’s... hard to describe.” 

Leliana continued to treat Regan’s wounds, and Regan wished she had more mana left for healing magic to help the process along. 

Leliana eventually got up to go help Alistair, brushing a hand over Regan’s shoulder as she left. Regan shivered and tried not to feel anything about that. 

Leliana was pretty, that much was obvious. She was kind, she seemed to genuinely want the best for everyone. Regan was cynical, and sometimes looking at Leliana was like looking into the sun. She really believed the world could be a better place. 

She found joy in stories and knew so much about all kinds of places, she sang ballads by the fire. Her voice was as beautiful as she was. 

Regan hated the feeling that bloomed inside of her when she had Leliana’s attention. She didn’t want to get a crush on someone in the party. Sure, Regan had found Morrigan very attractive at first and maybe had a little crush for a moment, but this new feeling was different. Regan found herself basking in Leliana’s presence, enjoying stories she didn’t even care about just because Leliana was telling them. 

This was bad. Leliana may not even like women, she could just be very touchy and kind. Some women were, even if they only liked men. 

And Leliana was a chantry sister, even if she never took vows. Was Regan any better than Jowan if she got lost in the eyes of some chantry girl who was nice to her? 

But Leliana was different than the chantry. She explored other perspectives, she respected mages. Leliana’s devotion to the Maker didn’t cause her to be dogmatic. 

_Oh yeah, her devotion to the Maker. She probably doesn’t have room for romance._

Having feelings for Leliana was a bad idea. 

The night ended with the injured huddled near each other in the only remaining tent while Leliana and Morrigan took watch out in the rain. 

Being this close to Alistair was awkward, especially with both of them in various states of undress. Sten, who had injuries all across his seemed completely unphased by sitting in a tent with two comrades in arms in his underwear while the poultices took effect. Apparently putting on pants again might jostle them. 

The one making a big deal was shirtless Alistair who was blushing and looking anywhere but his two companions. 

“This was a disgraceful response,” Sten told the tent. “We should have been more prepared for that attack, with all of our armor and weapons in our tents as I have.”

“You...you wear full plate,” Regan told no one in particular. “And you keep it in your tent while you sleep.”

“Yup,” Alistair said with an expression telling Regan that this had been a point of contention. 

“You didn’t even have time to put on armor,” Regan argued.

“I still had my sword. Alistair had to go halfway across camp for his weapon, getting himself injured in the process. It is pure foolishness that we all do not sleep with our weapons near.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Regan muttered. 

“There ought not to be a next time. Were the other bas saraabas paying attention we would have seen the attack coming.”

“Hey, we’re new at this!” Regan frowned. “Not all of us are trained soldiers you know.”

“You are Gray Wardens.”

“We’re new.”

“Does the Archdemon care?” Sten replied. “I am beginning to question the effectiveness of you Wardens.”

“Look,” Regan raised her voice slightly, “I didn’t hear you making any of these suggestions before! I’ll accept some criticism but unless you do better, don’t go acting like you’d make a better leader than us! Also don’t fucking call me or Morrigan ‘bas sara-whatever the fuck’ again! I know how you Qunari treat mages like slaves, and I don’t want you even thinking of me in the same sentence as them.”

The tent’s atmosphere was palpable. Alistair was so still Regan wasn’t sure he was breathing.

“As you say, commander,” Sten replied, and went back to staring into the distance. Well. That was easy.

Regan had expected at least a little bit of pushback. 

Alistair let out a long breath. 

There was more awkward silence until Alistair spoke. 

“Uh, Regan, did I accidentally smite you again? I tried getting as close to the emissary as possible.”

“I got out of the way in time. Good job, by the way.”

“...thanks.”

“We need to train together,” Regan realized and vocalized at the same time. It wasn’t the conclusion of this situation she wanted, but it was the one she got.

“Really?” Alistair asked. 

“Yes. You can’t just....ugh, as much as I absolutely hate to say it, you can’t just not use your Templar abilities if they help us. So we’ve gotta train together and figure out how to fight in close quarters. We also have to figure out how big this radius is.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember that bit of Templar training.”

“How do you not remember that?”

“It’s not an exact science! And I like I said, I never had to think about the radius being too big.”

“Okay, well we’ll just have to hope it doesn’t happen again if you pay attention to where I am in a fight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually the rain let up enough for the injured to venture out of the tent without worrying the water would mess with their health poultices. And thank the Maker, Sten and Alistair put their clothes back on. 

The campsite was also more or less cleaned up, Leliana and Morrigan must have been organizing the wreckage. 

“We will have to buy more Lyrium potions soon,” Morrigan observed. “I have but one left.”

Regan actually laughed, and then had to explain how she only made the deal with the ancient elf because of the chance Morrigan would have no more potions. Then Regan remembered the gem. Shit, she was supposed to destroy it as her part of the bargain. 

Regan quickly found her pack and took out the gem. She held it in her hand and concentrated both her spirit bolt and lightning into one contained blast. 

As the gem shattered to pieces in her hand, she felt the ancient elf’s gratitude float in the air around her. He was free now.

“What exactly did the spirit teach you?” Asked Morrigan, who had been watching. She had been there when Regan found the gem so she knew what it was. 

“How to be an Arcane Warrior. They knew ancient elven techniques for turning their magic into martial skills. The technique was known as _Dirth'ena Enasalin.”_

“Wait,” Regan said before Morrigan could add anything. “How do I know all that?”

“The elf must have left the knowledge with you. He gifted you with a history lesson as well as a new skill.”

“I don’t fully have the skill. I’ll have to train it like everything else, he just gave me a boost for the beginning. Maybe that’s why he left me the history, so I would know how I’m supposed to train.”

As Regan looked within herself, she could imagine drills being run using the skills of an Arcane Warrior, could understand what the next step for her was.

“Yup. I know how I’ll have to hone this skill. Woah...I think eventually I’ll be able to...step into the fade?”

That memory made no sense. But there it was, left by the elf.

“That sounds rather fantastical,” Morrigan told her with a raised eyebrow. “But if it is what this elf imparted to you, I imagine it is true in some form.”

“Maybe I could teach you how to he an Arcane Warrior!” Regan realized. “After I get better at it that is.”

“Why would I need to wield a sword if I have magic?”

“I don’t know Morrigan, it came in pretty handy back there...” Regan rocked back and forth on her feet with a sing song voice. Morrigan didn’t look convinced.

The party slowly went back to bed, everyone feeling a bit too nervous to sleep. There was also the matter of all but one tent going up in flames and only some bedrolls being salvaged. 

Morrigan’s part of camp was almost untouched, and Morrigan allowed Regan to share her tent. From what Regan gathered, Alistair and Leliana shared Alistair’s tent while Sten insisted on sleeping in his bedroll outside. He also insisted on taking the first watch.

Morrigan sat in her tent reading from a book late into the night, using a small wisp of light to see. Regan thought she might find it hard to sleep, but the events of the day weighed her down easily into the Fade.

~~~~~~~~~~~

An elven girl sat in the Circle infirmary with a large bruise on her face. She was twelve years old and had just gotten into a fistfight with another mage. The boy had been born to nobility and thought himself above her. Tough shit, he was here the same as the rest of them. He had said something about her being trash on the streets of Denerim, and she had told him if they were in Denerim he would be knocked out by now. Things had escalated. Even after the Templars pulled the two children apart and smited them, the boy had managed to get one final punch. 

Irving had been very disappointed in Regan. Was she ever going to grow past this, he wondered. He had somehow sensed Regan threw the first punch. Well, the boy threw the first spirit bolt, so there. 

Now Regan was sitting down while Enchanter Wynne healed the bruise on her cheek. She also chastised Regan for the incident. 

Mid way through the lecture, Wynne’s demeanor changed. 

“You would have found much use in this kind of power after the fight.”

It was Wynne’s voice, yet it wasn’t. And that wasn’t what Wynne had said. 

The Fade shifted around Regan and she found herself standing in her old home. It was empty, but she could hear the sounds of the city outside.

“What do you want, demon?” Regan asked the room. 

“I am no demon,” came a reply in a familiar voice. It was her voice, she realized. The front door opened, and in stepped...Regan. 

The other Regan was clad in civilian clothes similar to what many elves in the alienage wore. 

“I’ve never actually worn those, you know,” Regan told her double. “It’s been robes since I was seven, now it’s armor.”

“I’m not trying to be you, not exactly. Well, maybe I am trying to be you. I felt as though I ought to have a form to talk to you.”

The Fade shifted again, and this time there were fewer illusions. The area was vast and expansive, strange amalgamations of Regan’s memories made into a landscape. 

There was a table in the middle of the area, so Regan took a seat and Other Regan did too.

“Who are you?” Regan asked. “And if you’re not a demon, then what are you?”

“I am Determination.”

“That’s quite a name.”

Determination laughed. “I always did love your sense of humor. It may be hard for us spirits to understand, but I think my years of study have made me somewhat adept. But Regan, surely you knew what I meant. You studied this in the Circle.”

“You’re a spirit of Determination,” said Regan. “Why are you here?”

Regan had occasionally seen spirits in the Fade, but not met any other than at her Harrowing.

“I have watched you for many years, Regan. You were admirable, even as a child. You were so stubborn, so unwilling to accept your circumstances.”

“I thought spirits were attracted to virtues.”

“That is one of your virtues. You are determined, always. Determined to never give in, determined to be free. You always have been.”

“Alright, still sounds a little suspicious...”

Regan didn’t know how she felt about this spirit watching over her for her whole life. 

“Why didn’t you contact me earlier?”

“You were not ready, you had no need of what I could offer. I was content to simply watch over you in your dreams, keeping demons away when I could. You quickly became one of my favorite mortals.”

“Are you very old?”

“We do not have time in the Fade like you do. You were one of the first mortals I visited, however. So I suppose I am the same age as you.”

“Or younger,” Regan pointed out. “You’re basically a baby spirit. Cute.”

“We do not age. We simply exist one day.”

“You’re still like the little sibling I never knew I had. You grew up with me, sort of.”

“I suppose so, yes. I did venture into the dreams of others, but they did not interest me like you do.”

“So I’m interesting, huh?”

“Yes, and a beacon of my virtue. Your presence feeds into my very being. You give me strength.”

Before Regan could say anything, Determination continued. 

“I could give you strength too. You were quite badly hurt in that recent fight. In talking to others of my kind I have found that a bond can be formed between mortal and spirit that would allow us to heal together.”

Regan almost laughed. “Me? A spirit healer?” She couldn’t imagine it. “Don’t you need to be measured and calm for that?”

“Since when have you ever stuck to rules?” Determination asked. 

She had her there.

“And even if I was cut out to be a spirit healer, how do I know you’re not a demon? Determination seems like a tricky gray area between vice and virtue. There’s confidence, and then there’s pride.”

“You could say that of most virtues, in excess. Even compassion can be twisted if you use it for the wrong people. Compromise can make one ignore evil, faith can make you complacent just as much as sloth.”

“What about justice?”

“What is justice? It is many things to many people. The Templars think themselves just.”

Determination talked animatedly, clearly enjoying their chat. 

“Fair... but that doesn’t help me know you’re not actually a pride demon trying to gain my trust.”

“Ugh, you think everything is a demon,” Determination complained. “First the elf, now me. What are you, a Templar?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Regan bit back. Maker, they were bickering like siblings. Regan almost missed the feeling. 

Determination giggled. She was kind of adorably excitable, demon or not.

“It is so fun finally talking to you! Even if you don’t want my help, can we keep talking? I want to ask so many questions about your life. I only can get so much from your dreams.”

“Shoot,” Regan offered.

“...I don’t have a bow.” Determination looked confused.

Now it was Regan’s turn to laugh. “It’s an expression. I mean ask away.”

“But we’re here, why should I ask away?”

“I didn’t mean-“

Determination laughed. 

“You’re messing with me,” Regan realized. “I’m being messed with by the Maker’s first children. Anyway, if we’re going to talk can you look like someone else? It’s weird talking to myself.”

Sitting in front of her was Wynne.

“Not her.”

Now it was Alistair.

“Nope.”

Morrigan. 

“...still weird.”

Leliana.

“No! Maker, no.”

“Oh, right,” Determination said in Leliana’s voice, “this is the one you have feelings for.”

“I don’t have feelings, I just...look, maybe because you’re a spirit you don’t get this stuff but Leliana is pretty. That’s all.”

“Don’t lie to a spirit, we can see into your dreams. Also, a chantry sister? Even after all this time you are full of surprises.”

“....you know what, just turn back into me.”

Determination obliged. 

“What are your goals, now that you are free of the Circle?” Determination asked. 

The question confused Regan somewhat. 

“It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it? End the Blight, kill the Archdemon.”

“After that,” Determination insisted like an eager child waiting for a story. She really was like a little sister. 

“...I don’t know. It’s not a good idea to plan for the aftermath of something you might not live through. I guess do...wardeny things?”

Determination pouted. “That’s so boring. And it’s not what you really want.”

“What do I want? I wanted to be out of the Circle, and now I am. Done.”

“There’s really nothing you’re working towards?”

“Did I not just tell you about the Blight? You know, a _Blight_.”

“Boring answer. Let’s move on to a different topic. About that Templar you’re friends with-“

“Not my friend. Colleague.”

“You two shared a few moments, they’re floating all around in your consciousness.”

“Of course we shared moments, we’re the last Wardens in Ferelden.”

Regan was slightly exasperated now. She and Alistair were so not friends, not after he showed who he really was.

“He’s so scared of magic that he wouldn’t do what was right,” Regan continued to argue. “And he smited me. Well, that was an accident but it sure as shit didn’t help my opinion of him.”

“You still defend him to Morrigan,” Determination infuriatingly pointed out. It was a bitch to have someone who could see all your dreams and memories.

“She’s...” Regan struggled to justify herself. “She’s too harsh sometimes. A bit too mean, kinda also has a tenuous relationship with doing the right thing. But she’s still better than Alistair. She gets it, she’s a fellow mage.”

Determination seemed satisfied by that answer. But of course, she pushed more. 

“You’re also friends with that Qunari. I’m sure his opinion of mages is less than stellar.”

Regan scoffed. “Sten isn’t my friend. I like to mess with him, he’s kinda interesting. He’s useful. We’re not friends.”

“I think he thinks highly of you.”

“No way,” Regan argued. “I’m a rule breaking bitch who doesn’t have the decency to stay in her station. What do you know of mortals, anyway? Why are you the expert?”

“I call it like I see it.”

“...you talk a lot like me. It’s weirding me out.”

“I learned from you! I told you I’ve been with you from the beginning.”

“I’m a bad influence. Are you sure you’re not a demon?”

Determination shook her head good-naturedly, but before she could respond 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Regan awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside the tent.

Morrigan was gone, presumably already outside and awake.

Regan changed into her armor and cringed at the pain on her back. Determination’s offer rang out in the back of her mind, tauntingly.

But no, you didn’t make any kind of agreement with something in the Fade after knowing them for one day. Besides, Regan was already learning to be an Arcane Warrior.

Speaking of that, Regan was eager to seek out Sten for training. She was excited to use her new powers again. That would involve explaining to Sten the dodgy way she got the powers, but she was gonna have to come clean sooner or later.

When Regan found Sten, Alistair was with him. Fuck.

“Hi Regan,” he said with an awkward smile. That stupidly endearing one.

“I’m here to train with you and Sten. Maybe I can learn something about Qunari technique. And maybe...I can teach you a few moves?”

“So I can be a mage that fights like a Templar? I’ll pass.”

“Hey,” Alistair countered, “imagine the looks on their faces if you ever fight one. Hilarious!”

“Ha freaking ha,” Regan deadpanned. “Fighting a Templar is suicide, I think I’ll pass.”

“You said you attacked them back at the Circle...”

“I also said I should have died in the Circle.”

“Were you a saraabas, attacking your Arvaarad would have you killed or your tongue would be cut out,” Sten added.

“...cheery,” said Regan. “Can we talk about _anything_ else?”

“The weather is nice today?” Alistair suggested.

“You bas and your pointless ramblings!” Sten exclaimed, actually sounding frustrated. “We will begin training now. The commander and I will go over drills. You,” he pointed to Alistair, “will participate or stay out of our way.”

Alistair looked sufficiently chastised and fell in line. The training went well, and Regan was amused by Sten’s attempt to hide his surprise at how strong Regan had become. She did have to explain the whole ancient elf thing. 

“That is a formidable magic indeed,” Sten observed. He almost looked frightened, if he could even feel that.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you lifting that sword as easily as I do,” Alistair joked. “Took a lot of training to get there.”

“What, don’t like mages being as strong as you?”

Alistair’s face fell. “We don’t have to go there, so we? I thought...we were passed that.”

“For a hot second, maybe. Until you decided you were the holy arbiter of what magic can and cannot be used.”

Regan wasn’t joking and the atmosphere was thoroughly ruined. She wasn’t about to get comfortable around Alistair again. She would work with him, she needed to, but she wasn’t going to be his friend.

“It’s blood magic! Blood magic is bad!”

Regan rolled her eyes so hard it should have caused a seismic shift.

“Why is it bad, huh? Why is it bad?”

“How can you even ask that? It’s...demons!”

“Did we make a deal with a demon back there?”

“No, but-“

“Exactly! Jowan was already a blood mage, Isolde gave her life willingly! That’s better than killing a fucking child!”

“How do I know you won’t start...justifying things! Things later down the road.”

“Yeah, it’s totally the same thing using blood magic to save a child’s life using a willing sacrifice and sacrificing unwilling people for power.”

Alistair was about to say something, but Regan wouldn’t let him.

“And also! Which is worse, killing a mother who volunteered in order to save her son, or murdering a man who just wanted to see his wife and children in order to hide a few secrets? Huh, Warden?”

“That’s- it’s not-“

“It’s not magic so everything is fine! It’s always fine as long as it isn’t magic, it’s always the necessary evil as long as it isn’t magic.”

Alistair gave up trying and stormed off. Sten watched silently.

“Say one fucking word to me,” Regan pointed a finger at Sten, “I dare you.”

Sten did not say one fucking word. They continued training. When they sparred this time Regan had an easier time defending herself. Using the inherent magic inside her instead of strength was really powerful. And this technique did not appear to drain mana either, or it did at such a slow pace that Regan didn’t notice. 

At one point Regan even got a hit on Sten, pushing back when he didn’t expect it and using more strength than he was used to. 

Sten still looked mildly frightened by her new powers, which left a bitter taste in Regan’s mouth that she did not understand.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After getting back to Redcliff it took no time at all to heal Arl Eamon. He was distraught, of course. His wife and son were both gone. Regan felt sorry for him, up until he handed Jowan over to the Templars like that was a victory. Evil was defeated, yay. Not just a pathetic boy who grew up to be a pathetic man. Not just a pathetic man who probably wouldn’t have even touched blood magic if it weren’t for the fear of a Harrowing or if he had been able to run away with his girlfriend.

What happened to Jowan was preventable, it was a tragedy. Regan kind of hated Jowan, but having him killed wasn’t victory. 

Regan sat on the palace steps, looking out into the courtyard with her arms resting on her knees. The wind blew lightly threw her hair, and she savored the feeling. 

Regan felt empty. She saved the day by finding a fucking holy relic and she felt empty. 

All she could see was the pleased look in Eamon’s eye as Jowan was taken away, like justice had been done. A woman was dead and her son imprisoned for life. There wasn’t anything to be happy about. 

After “justice” had been done, Arl Eamon had taken her and Alistair to the side to discuss their next move against Loghain. Well, he had taken Alistair and Regan had followed. The old man talked to Alistair with such fondness while pretending Regan was not there until she asserted herself and it became clear Alistair was letting her make the decisions. And even then, Eamon looked to Alistair for confirmation every time Regan spoke.

Was it the elf thing, or the mage thing? It had better be the elf thing, because his son was a mage. That never did make a difference, though. Did Eamon even miss Conner? Would anyone miss Conner now that Isolde was gone?

...did the Suranas miss Regan?

_No, stop. Ugh, going to Denerim sucked._

She hadn’t thought of her family in years, and now she had thought of them multiple times in one week! This was ridiculous. Regan shook her head at herself, thinking of what a fool she was.

“Ah, there you are!” Came a pleasant voice. Leliana sat down next to Regan.

“Inside they were wondering where you went. We are all packing up to leave. The Arl has given us gold to purchase more camping supplies, so we will have a tent again!”

“Oh, good.” Regan’s voice was listless. This was supposed to be a victory. She saved the day. 

“Whatever is bothering you, you can talk to me if you would like,” offered Leliana. 

“I don’t feel like I won. I know it’s childish to want to feel that way, but I thought saving a man’s life would be...better? Saving Conner’s life didn’t feel good either. It just led to fighting, and saving Arl Eamon led to Jowan’s death. That’s all that awaits blood mages. Death.”

Why did she care again? It was fucking Jowan. His own actions caused his death, not Regan. 

_You only tattled on him, then didn’t let him out of that cell. Don’t kid yourself, Regan._

“He made his choice to stay,” said Leliana. “He could have run but he didn’t.”

“And what’s his reward? He saved Conner too. He finally, finally in his life did the right thing and didn’t take the coward’s way out, and...this is what he gets.”

Leliana didn’t have anything to say to that, she just placed a hand on Regan’s shoulder. That hand felt like an anchor, and Regan leaned into it. How long had it been since Regan had hugged someone, had someone comfort her?

Regan inhaled sharply, hating the tears that welled up in her eyes. Leliana didn’t need to see this, she didn’t need to comfort Regan. 

But Leliana did not let go, in fact she scooted closer. Then, slowly, she wrapped her arm around Regan. Selfishly, like a pathetic child, Regan leaned in and cried. 

She hated this, she hated all of it. She had won, why was it like this? Why had the most selfless person in that fucking room been Jowan and why had he died for it? 

“You did a good thing, Regan,” said Leliana. “You risked your life to save Redcliff, and then saved a man’s life. You gained a powerful ally in your fight against Loghain. You did good today.”

“I don’t want to be here,” Regan whispered. “I just want to run away. I don’t want to do good if nothing changes.”

“You did change things, Regan. Saving the Arl will help you save all of Ferelden.”

“I don’t care about Ferelden!” Regan sobbed. “My life wasn’t in Ferelden, it was in the Circle. I’m not a Fereldan, I’m a mage. All I did was send a another mage to a prison and condemn one to death. Is this all you can do outside the Circle? Perpetuate it?”

Now tears of rage replaced those of sorrow. 

“He’s so pleased with himself, Bann Teagan. And Eamon too. The big bad blood mage was punished and the dangerous child was sent away. Redcliff is fucking saved! Maybe if Eamon can take a moment to stop thanking Alistair for my work he can realize he’s never going to see his son again!”

Regan’s shoulders shook and she leaned further into Leliana’s embrace, head resting on her shoulder. Leliana pushed Regan’s hair out of her eyes and stroked her back. 

“You’re too nice...” Regan told her. “I complain after saving the day and badmouth the institution you serve and you comfort me.”

“Everyone needs comfort sometimes,” Leliana replied easily. “And you feel so much, I can tell. You wear your heart on your sleeve and show your anger and happiness in equal measure. You care so much that of course you’re going to feel like this sometimes.”

“...that’s not how I would describe myself. I don’t care about anything other than my own survival. I’m...pragmatic like that. I may be reckless and stupid, but deep down I survive.”

“That’s not true,” Leliana argued. “You do care. You care so much it hurts you, you care about injustice you see in the world. I am very good at reading people, and I can read that in you.”

Regan didn’t know what to say to something like that. No one had ever thought so highly of her.

Eventually Regan stopped crying, and she just sat with her head on Leliana’s shoulder and with the awful sticky feeling of tears shed. 

It was time to get up and go back inside. She had taken up enough of Leliana’s kindness. 

“Thank you,” Regan said as she lifted her head and sat up straighter. 

Leliana only smiled at her, a genuine smile. She was so pretty it was unfair, and Regan was a mess.

The two women returned to the palace and Regan packed her things. In one of the side rooms Arl Eamon was talking to Alistair and pointing to a map of Ferelden on a large oak table. Alistair looked confused, apologetic, and then relieved when he saw Regan.

“Ah! There she is. She’s really the one making the decisions here, I just uh, follow.” 

“What decision are we making?” Regan asked as she entered the room and looked at the map. 

“Which treaty to inquire after first,” Arl Eamon told her. “We are located closest to the Brecilian forest and to Kinloch Hold. I would like to know where you will be headed next.”

“The Brecilian forest,” Regan answered instantly. Arl Eamon looked rather taken aback.

“What reason do you have to go there first? And shouldn’t you consult with your fellow Warden before-“

“You heard him, I make the decisions. And I want to go to the forest first because the Dalish are nomadic. There’s a possibility that the clan will flee due to the Blight before we can call in the treaty. The mages are staying where they are, like always....”

Regan knew she sounded bitter. Arl Eamon seemed to accept her reasoning, which was good because it was bullshit. Regan maybe had a point, yeah, but that wasn’t why she chose the forest. 

She had promised herself she was never coming back to Kinloch Hold, and even though she knew she had to break that promise she would delay it for as long as possible. She couldn’t handle the Circle right now, not after everything. 

The preparations were made, and the party headed out. Regan could not be more glad to leave the castle.


End file.
